Lights
by Valexian rose
Summary: Maybe they're like people. Some are blue, some are are green, maybe even red. Or maybe, they change colors. But me, as a person, as a light, I used to be bright and white, but a long time ago, I was switched off. And I went out. My name, is Beatrice Prior.
1. Pilot

Lights, thats all we are, when the world goes round and the darkness finds the side of the Earth you call your home, we're nothing but little lights alone. In the blackness that we call familiar, we are alone, no one is out there, and if they were, they would see half of our destroyed world in the light of our only star, making us look lonely as the only blue planet, the only one that isn't frozen to the core. It looks like it was given a few drops of color, and a splatter here and there of white. And on the other side it drifts into shadow and darkness that would hold little specks of light in the shape of our continents, the world portion getting brighter the more populated it is. Sometimes I stop to ask myself if any of the lights feel alone, but they couldn't be lonely, they all get so excited when the other lights flick on.

Or maybe they just go with the flow, knowing that they only have a select time to shine. Lights, are kind of like people, they only have a short time be be their brightest, the rest of the time they fizzle in and out of darkness, until they go out for a long time. Maybe they're like people. Some are blue, some are are green, maybe even red. Or maybe, they even change colors. But me, as a person, as a light, I used to be bright and white, but a long time ago, I was switched off. And I went out.

My name, is Beatrice Prior. Every night, I leave my house and walk up the hill, I lay in the grass that tickles my ears and licks at my bare legs. My dress is flat and silky against me, my palms turned up, my feet bare. I let my eyes open halfway as they sting from dryness. My cheeks and nose rough and rosy from crying. The tear stricken sickness that plagues the eyes and heart of every man and woman alive at least once in their life, has now made it's way to me. As the late night wind dances across the globe, it swirls and plays with my black dress. My moist cheeks, eyes, and nose are now cold. I can't help but pray for the burning in my eyes to stop, for water to come and douse away the pain. If Caleb was here, he'd tell me the remedy is a steaming hot shower or chamomile and honey tea. He and mom loved drinking tea, dad always joked that they were turning amity and getting high off of flowers. I don't know if dad will make that joke anymore.

I feel my eyes widen as the haloed moon finds it's way to illuminating the darkest night of my life. As the sky turns white and blue with all of the lonely stars in the sky, I can't help but wonder if the ball of fire in the center of our solar system ever feels alone, like it won't ever meet one of the other stars more than one hundred light years away. I remember coming here with Caleb for the first time, with him pointing out the constellations, he was always smart. Explaining and wondering with me about the world and how many stars there are. We used to make up stories about the constellations and how they were named. They are nothing but memories now.

I sit up, bending my knees slightly and letting some of the loose strands of my dirty blonde hair, fall into my view from my messy bun. I can't help but feel curious and sad looking at all the town lights, from all of the houses and their restless residents. "Beatrice!" My head whips to the left, I see my mother and father standing in the pale light of a street lamp a few meters away. My fathers face is glum and cast slightly down, my eyes follow the black suit he's wearing, it's still as crisp as it was this morning. His dark ashy hair gelled but slightly tousled. His lips are in a thin line and his five o'clock shadow clear under the lamp light. I notice that they are holding hands with laced fingers, their silver rings catching some light. He rubs the top of her slightly wrinkled hand with his thumb, a comforting gesture, it's good to know they still love eachother very much.

My mothers face holding a small sad smile, her eyes are still soft and blue but they are filled with remorse, her light brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, and her black dress still worn. She has switched back to her flats and her black leggings off. She is standing close to my father, her shoulder next to his heart. "Beatrice, it's time to go home," My mother cooes softly. I rise to my feet, wiggling my toes in the damp overgrown perfect grass.

It'll be a long time before I have the guts to come back here, Caleb and I spent so long here, laughing and playing. Sometimes he would take Susan here when we were kids, have little picnics and I taught her how to climb a tree in a skirt, Caleb would not stop blushing that day. His ears slightly red and his nose scrunched up. They were a secret thing, him and Susan, she and I were friends, I don't know if she'll ever talk to me again though. Not after today, I know he loved her though, sometimes he would rant at me in my room, asking for advice in the middle of the night. I know Susan tried to get me and her brother, Robert, together so it would be more convenient for Caleb and her to meet. He and I both agreed to just be friends, we couldn't really work, he was nice and gentle while I was a little too daring for anyones taste.

My eyes find the city one more time, scoping and scanning the moon drifting through the buildings, finding what little natural light I can in hopes that it will restore my own. And for the last time, I feel the chilled wind drift through my hair and gush around my thin arms and legs, playing at the laced hem of my black dress. It freezes my face and gives me goosebumps up my arms and legs, making the thin loose hairs from my head tickle my neck, sending cold shivers down my spine. I feel my toes curl and cross my arms, rubbing them slightly and sniffling up the cold and looking down at my pale bare feet through my eyelashes. I know my parents are waiting for their little girl, so I look up and breathe in, tapping my toes into the grass once more then reaching down for my shoes. I slip them on and look to the left at my parents who are patient and kind, selfless and more than loving to me and always Caleb.

I feel my lips part so I wet them, and make my way to my father, who has his arm outstretched to me. I look at him and see a small loving smile on his lips, I can't find it in me to smile back so I look down as he puts his arm around my small shoulders. He kisses my head, then my mothers and smiles as much as anyone could right now, saying "Lets go home."


	2. Stiff

I wake up to my open window, with the light filtering through my grey drapes, still showing the flakes of dust in the air to the wooden floor. Fading the once golden light into a pale manila grey. I sit up and watch as the dust floats slowly through the air, reminding me of fireflies in late June to the beginning of August. Caleb once told me while we were in our back yard, on the steps, that fireflies light up as a mating habit or even a conversation. I thought it was gross at the time, but he found it fascinating. I sigh at the memory of the sky turning grey and dark blue with orange peeking over the trees, dusk rolling in and us playing in the grass until our mother called for dinner.

I turn to my night stand and see my phone starting to ring, 5:30, time to wake up. I kill the alarm and pull off my grey and white sheets, swinging my legs over the side of the mattress. It's good to wake up early, to better ready the mind for the day at hand. I take in how empty my room looks, with just a mattress, a nightstand and a small lamp. Then the rest is bare until my closet. The walls of my room a concrete grey color, and the floor oak panel, I stretch my shoulders and arms. Then clicking any bones that flicked out of place and touching my toes. A morning stretch or cardio workout will wake the body, and prepare the heart for the rest of the day, makes you live longer. After stretching I strip down to nothing and walk into my connected bathroom, turning the water cold.

I waste no time washing my hair and body, doing other bodily things and finishing in 6 minutes. Taking a cold shower always makes me feel better, and Caleb always told me it was rude to take long steamy hot showers. It is considered a selfish extravagance. I do not have a mirror in my bathroom, only what I need such as a hairbrush and a select amount of hair ties and pins and the like hygiene necessities. I quickly dry off and get dressed into a soft grey shirt and darker blue jeans. They aren't skinny nor are they baggy, they are a little big so I could grow into it.

I brush my teeth and hair, pull my hair into a side french braid, and freshen up for the day. Pulling on my socks and getting my bag for school from my door. Open the drapes and make my bed, finally after picking up my room and bathroom, I grab my phone and keys, then check the time, 6:45. I open my door quietly and walk into the hallway, closing it behind me. Picking up an apple and a soft pastry from the pantry I munch on it while I make my lunch in silence. I finish at 7 and slip on my converse shoes, swinging my backpack over my shoulder. I leave and lock the door, my father must have already left for work, his car is gone. My mother doesn't get up until 8, so I walk to school alone.

I occupy myself by humming and occasionally mumbling the words to a song I used to secretly listen to. It's by a popular band called Bastille, the song Daniel In The Den. Once, when I was younger, Caleb and I went to school holding hands, I was shy and he was eager, so he lead me to class. I was in this cute newspaper grey and blue floral dress my hair was lighter and in a soft bun, we were told to introduce ourselves. Caleb kept it short and said he liked learning, I said I loved to sing. I had started when my mother was humming while cooking before father got home. Caleb told me later that day not to sing in front of others, I never understood why. Until, we were in 7th grade, I was in choir, and lead singer to my class. Many girls were jealous of me, and it eventually got me in a lot of trouble, as they destroyed my homework and pushed me around until I swore to give the position to the group leader, Anica.

Expressing a talent such as an artistic one can lead to a dangerous and consuming jealousy, it draws attention to yourself. My brother was trying to protect me. I haven't sang publically since, I rarely do it at home. Now, I don't have a real reason to, I used to sing the school play songs and make the periodic table song for Caleb to remember. I used to sing to make him and my mother happy when we would sit in her garden terrace. My father would sometimes leave the window to his office open and listen when he was working from home. I don't know if my family will still be as open as it was.

The school year is almost over, but no one has changed, we're all preparing for the final exams. After this year, I'll be a Senior. I'm sixteen, but my birthday is in January so I'm a bit awkward with my classmates about age. Then again, I've never talked to my classmates unless it was required. I walk up the steps, seeing some cars pull into the parking lot. I open the door and take a right to my locker down the tiled hallway. Our school is slightly peculiar, we're not divided by groups, like our middle school, but old habits die hard. So we took our own initiative to divide ourselves.

I stuck with grey, because it's what I know, Caleb had moved on to blue, which suited him because he was the smartest person I knew other than our dad. Blue, stood for the intelligent, people at a higher grade level, close to college level. Grey stood for those who chose to keep from themselves, to help others less fortunate but going to their level of understanding, full of responsibility. Red or sometimes yellow were known to be happy colors, for those who wish to spread love and kindness amongst others. White stood for honesty for those who saw the truth and simple like the natural white shade, seeing the simpler problems and being rational. Finally, black, or any dark color really, stood for the brave, those who were the natural rebels, for the all star popular athletes. For the kids that had no problem beating the crap out of each other over something stupid, and later laughing it off. They were carefree.

I open my locker and grab what books I need for the next morning classes. Then walking over to English, well, more so as Creative Writing. I majored in English my Sophomore year earning the right to take an extra elective. I still loved the subject to I took the next best thing. I close my locker and lock it, and make my way to the room that I've spent countless hours in. I'm stopped when I hear a few grunts and curse words echo through the hall, I round the corner as I hear a crack and see two boys in black clothing fighting. One is blonde with messy hair and the other with strawberry blonde hair, almost like a baked carrot. I don't know them, and I know I should stay out of it, but my stomach lurches as the blondes mouth spurts blood and his head is cocked to face me.

Before I know it I'm breaking my rule by shoving the other off the blonde, he stumbles back and wipes his nose, which is dripping blood. I cringe when he smiles and his teeth are a bit red too, "Well well stiff," The name 'stiff' is what they call us in grey, we call ourselves Abnegation, to signify the act of denying an unnecessary gift. To claim we forget ourselves and emotion in order to aid others. They call us stiff's because we try to keep to ourselves with as little interaction to others, meaning fewer words and expressions. He grins at me again and I realise I'm standing in front of the other boy, who gets to his feet with a stumble and a wince. "What's your name?" I dare to speak, its quiet, but still audible.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I need to report you, school violence such as this is prohibited," I say slightly more confident. He chuckles at me, "They're not going to do anything, you'd be a snitch, and we fight all the time," he says full of himself. How vain. "Besides, even if they do listen to you, I'd find you and beat you up easily worse than him," I bite my tongue but smile inwardly at how loud he's talking. Because conveniently the principles assistant is walking up behind him. Johanna. We call her Joan though, she is not the biggest fan of violence. I hear she was Amity before she graduated. She says loudly and powerfully, "Really Drew, I'd think you'd have a little more respect for others," He whips around and his mouth drops before going into a smirk. "Of course, I was just kidding," Lying to her isn't smart, and it's obvious he's getting nowhere. He's foolish and brave, bold and self centered to do that. She rolls her eyes and points to the camera in the corner saying "Well, if you feel so strongly about kidding on your insults, lets review the tape and listen to all the things you may have said to William," he scoffs and glares at me and the boy behind me. Joan speaks to him "Are you alright William?"

"Yeah, I'll live," he says sarcastically, I don't need to see him to know he's smiling. Johanna smiles in return and nods at me "Thank you, for helping him," I nod back at her as she turns and leads Drew to the office. I sigh in relief as the air thins again, and turn around to my class. A hand stops me by touching my forearm, I tense and look up at the blonde. I forgot he was there, "Thanks by the way," I nod and he removes his hand. I try to open the door again but his voice stops me, "I'm Wil, just so you know,"

"I heard," I say before thinking, I inwardly scold myself, a quick tongue gets you nowhere, a sarcastic one does not help. Will only smirks, "You're pretty Dauntless for a stiff," I keep looking at the door, Dauntless means being determined or fearless. I am neither of those things, I decided I wasn't when I became a Freshman. Made the school year a lot easier when I wasn't rebellious. "You're too Erudite to wear black," He cocks an eyebrow up as I turn to look at him,

"I used to be actually, you're brave and smart, what a collection," he says smirking at me, keep the conversation short Beatrice. "Thank you," I say finalizing things, "Maybe I'll see you around, Will," I hear a 'sure' from him as I walk into the empty classroom. I see the class instructor. He is reading the morning paper with his feet up on his desk. His skin is a dark olive and his eyes darker, his hair is black with a few strands of grey betraying his youthful looks. His eyes are almond shaped and his face boxy. He's 45, but he looks close to 30. My teacher looks up from the paper, then at his watch and smiles "You're late Prior," I nod curtly and walk to my seat towards the middle, "What happened?" he asks me.

"A fight, in the hall, I couldn't get to class because they were obstructing the path," I say simply while getting the laptop from the rack. "And technically, I'm not late, the first bell for 7:25 has not rung," I say not looking up at him.

"Well done," As he says this, the bell rings and people slowly filter into the room. When the final bell rings our Instructor stands and paces in front of the black chalk board, "Good morning class," A chorus of 'morning's' sound back at him and he smiles, "As you know, finals are just a few weeks away. I should recommend you all study accordingly. I'll aslo have you know that we are not going to have a test in this class, but on the day it is due, you will submit the novel I told you to start on at the beginning of the year," More kids than what I would initially expect groaned and sighed, I looked back at our Instructor who had his lips in a thin line. Disappointment is the look on his face. "Submit them via email on the day you are assigned to me during testing. Today we are working on analyzing a student text and fixing any errors, you are also allowed to recommend sentences and better their vocabulary," he says while he passes out a page of ink. "Don't write on this please, and return them to me along with your separate sheet of lined notations at the end of class, begin." I pull out a pencil and notebook and get to work immediately.

30 minutes into class I finish, I glance around and pay attention to the writing habits of students. One girl with light brown hair has her head on the desk as she writes. How peculiar I can't help thinking. I start drawing on the table, making note of the girl next to me watching. Before I know it the bell has rung, I stand and swing my bag over my shoulder, turning in my paper and staying after to clean up anything the other students may have left. My Instructor sighs and says "Prior, you don't have to do this, I clean the class at the end of the day,"

"But it would be rude to shut down assistance, plus there's no denying that this saves the last class you have the trouble of staying after and cleaning in order to return home," He doesn't say anything to me after that, when I'm done he nods a thanks to me. I leave for bio next. Technically it is the study of kinesiology, the study of the human body and its muscles as well as it's functions. In order to be fully selfless, you would have to learn some minor medicinal properties. Say to mend a broken hand or ankle, you wouldn't have to waste what money you have on a simple doctors visit. My class goes by relatively quickly as all she gave us was a sheet to remember the muscles in the body, all 650 of them. My other class is history, although most of it is recent, and from time to time the conversation drifts to politics and the geography and how that would affect the yearly salary for those in smaller independent businesses. I try to remember what I can for my fathers sake.

Finally, lunch rolls around. I walk over to the small table on the outskirts of the 'Dauntless' and 'Erudite'. I normally sit alone, but there is the occasional kid who forgot their lunch money at home so I give them a portion of my own food. Today, I sit at my table with my head down, focused only on eating quickly and studying for the upcoming tests. I realise now that I haven't said much to anyone today. If I have I've kept my answers short. Suddenly I feel a warmth next to my right, for a second I think it's Caleb coming to check on me, until out of the corner of my eye I see black. "Hello," I nod not looking up, it's Wil, what is he doing here? He leans in over my shoulder, "Whatcha doin'?" I realize that he could possibly see down my shirt. I automatically sit up straighter and look at him, turning my head only slightly. He's grinning, I can see the dark split in his lip and a bruise on his jaw, close to his right cheek bone. I haven't answered his question yet, "Studying, for the tests," He chuckles, was it something I said? "No, I mean what are you doing alone?" Alarms ring in my ears, and I feel myself tense. He laughs "Oh don't worry stiff, I've got a girlfriend," I see his light green eyes light up in amusement.

"Then what are you doing here?" My voice is much quieter than his,

"Don't tell them I said this, but one of the guys over there has a crush on you," He points to the table behind him, they're all watching this.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Actually yes," he says with no shame, "I'm over here because we've noticed you here all year, every day, sitting in the same spot alone,"

"I have my reasons," I mumble, carrying out extended conversations has always been awkward for me, it draws too much attention and focus on a single object. "Well, whatever they are, I'm sure they could make an exception for one day at least," My eyes find his again and I see he's being genuine. I glance back at the table I'm guessing he came from then nod once and slow. He grins and stands, grabbing my things and lunch for me. I remember the page number and close my textbook. I walk a few steps behind him and watch as two people part for me to sit, Will sets everything up continually glancing at a mocha skinned beauty across from him.

He finishes and I sit down slowly and awkwardly, I feel slightly out of place here, Caleb used to call these people roughians. But William has been nothing but nice to me. Maybe he was wrong, "Welcome to Dauntless stiff," He says and sits next to the girl he kept looking at. I can't help but fidget nervously with the pages to my textbook, I know that everyone here is waiting in silence for me to speak up, but I can't find it in me to do so, so I nod. He chuckles at me, "Come on, you gave Drew a mouthful this morning, use your words," he encourages, this makes my face warm up, "H-Hi," I manage to get out, then one of the boys laughs and yells "She speaks!" I smile a little to myself, he's tan and has dark hair and hazel eyes that look almost green at the moment. He sits on the other side of the mocha girl, who says "Hey I'm Christina," and holds out her hand for me, I look at it then her and nod. Physical interaction is at a minimum unless in the household. She looks slightly shut down but smiles brightly and giggles a little. I glance at William who moves his hand for me to say something, "Pleasure to meet you," I let out. Wil smiles, I'll admit, this is a different change in air to my time alone at the table behind me. Maybe, this might work, I know Caleb would support me, so why not?


	3. Parents

Parent

Before I know it the day is over and I find myself standing in front of the school, on the third step down out of eight, leaning against the railing and looking around at people who are laughing and talking about after school activities. I still here as the parking lot empties and I decide to check the library, he should be there right? I listen to how quiet my footsteps are against the tile, and how it echoes through the empty halls, with the zipper of my backpack slapping against the finer parts of the grey cloth. I take a left and walk out a set of glass doors to the inner sanctum of our school campus, a separate building entirely consisting of two full floors of books.

I walk slowly up to the double doors and pull one open, seeing the familiar face of our librarian typing furiously into the keyboard of her laptop. I wave to her awkwardly and she nods, I take it to myself to look for the familiar face. Downstairs is somewhat empty, a few Erudite studding for the rest of the year and taking notes in their books. Downstairs is the History and Geography section, as well as a bit of non-fiction.

Upstairs is where I usually find him, around four or so. Upstairs is Fiction, the Sciences and a few texts on Calculus and Trigonometry, as well as any test study guides. I weave silently through the curved isles of book shelves reaching the ceiling. It's like a childish habit of mine to skim my fingers on the rough, uneven, and smoothed surfaces of old tomes that haven't been touched in a while. The scratchy feeling of dust picking up on my fingers as I slide them across the untouched spines of words that can enchant the minds of others and break their hearts, as heroes or victims perish or get the ones they love. I can't help but shudder as my fingertips meet the cold of the metal shelf, and my nails make a tapping sound close to the click of a gun.

My eyes find the edge of the dark table he usually situates himself at. It makes me smile more than I have recently when I see someones books in his spot tucked in the corner. Their familiar black backpack on the back of the chair. I set my bag on a seat next to his stuff and wait, sitting on the table. Kicking my feet to and fro for a while until I hear footsteps behind me and I turn saying "It's time to go home Caleb-" But my voice abandons me as I see the face of my mother. I feel my eyes water as a pained saddened look invades my mothers face, I turn my head to the spot next to me and see the books gone, and the chair pushed in. Like there was never someone here in the first place. I am powerless to stop the tears from falling, and even more so as my mother comes and picks up my bag. I can't help as my body shakes and lurches with every stifled sob, my hand covering my mouth and my mother giving me a knowing look. She wants to cry too, she just won't allow herself to do so.

"Beatrice, let's go home," I close my wet eyes and calm down slowly, not saying anything for the fear of stuttering on my words. I feel my mothers hand on my arm and I look at her, she's looking at me with such intensity that it seems as if she's searching for my soul. Her blue eyes filled with so much experience and forbidden knowledge. I nod again to make sure she saw, and she looks down at her hand, that holds the strap of my bag. I take it and get to my feet, looking down, I don't want to see her. Or more so as I don't want to see the pain struck sadness that's somehow permanently imprinted itself on my parents faces. Normally I wouldn't cry like that, burst into tears without being able to stop. Maybe it's because I haven't cried for the six days that he's been gone. But maybe that's my downfall, he always told me it's better to quickly cry willingly than to suffer and hold it in until your body does it for you. Maybe, he'd still be here if I listened to him the way I do now.

My mothers small frail hand finds its place in between my shoulders. We make silent footsteps down the maze like library, and I can't help but notice how the librarian shoots me a look of pity. It makes me dread when the school will find out, and it also makes me feel so crushed. If I had listened to my dad Caleb would have been in that chair upstairs. Yet still, I had to rebel. My mother and I walk home in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Mine occupying Caleb, no doubt her's are as well. I often remember that night, the night that depended on our families life line. The night that I held the scissors that cut our family in half.

_"Beatrice!" I hear my fathers enraged voice ring through the air, "Get back here!" I don't care though, it's a friday and I'm allowed to have fun every once and a while. Sprinting down the sidewalk to where I know the party is. Running away from rules, and my controlling father. Finally my feet slap to a halt and I keel over, placing my hands on my knees and catching my breath. My black hood flopping onto my head, I unzip my sleeveless hoodie just a bit and stand up straight, gazing at the lively house of rebels. Walking up confidently and pushing open the door, I'm met by the smell of alcohol and sweat. I can only see people dancing, laughing, drinking, and over all enjoying themselves. Obviously I want to fit in and have fun too, so when a boy confronts me minutes later with a red solo cup with a golden tinged liquid, I take it._

_After a few more hours, my vision is in tunnel view and blurred on the edges, more so than usual. I have to squint to see, even for a few seconds. For some reason I can't manage to stay upon my booted feet, so when I fall recklessly on some random guy. He gets pissed and shoves me out of the house. Being as foolish and weird as I am I fall ass first on the sidewalk. Strangely I start to giggle as I unevenly get to my feet. My feet start walking in a random direction and I don't notice the black sedan that pulls up next to me until the person beeps. I curse for the first time in my life and glare at the driver, who rolls down the window, I see the car is still moving and I haven't stopped walking so I just go with it. "Beatrice," The person is Caleb, I can't help but feel a warm bubbly feeling in me that makes my skin crawl, and when it gets to my mouth I spew nothing but venom, "What so, now, now you're here to get me too huh?" I demand, he gives me a strange look,_

_"No, Bea, I'm here to take you home," Caleb is nothing but concerned,_

_"What? Isn't the old man pissed beyond his years?" I say sluggishly,_

_"He's just worried, and so is mom."_

_"So why are_ you _here then?" I ask a bit louder, walking faster, nearing the end of the block. Caleb keeps in pace with me, "Because, Bea, we want you home," He tries to be gentle, but you could tell he's getting impatient. "You're going through a phase and our parents just want to help you, you're drunk Bea," he explains,_

_"Well if our parents are so worried they could be here instead of you, why don't you just leave? Let me solve my own problems?!" I'm at the edge of the sidewalk to cross the street and his car is a few meters ahead, "It'd be a lot easier! I'll get home on my own, leave me alone Caleb!"_

_"No Bea I won't!" He tries to say, but my scream cuts him off,_

_"CALEB!" Then the car speeding faster than it should slams into the driver side of his car and flips it to the side. His car, now halfway down the block, on its passenger side. And all I hear is screaming._

That's all I allow myself to remember.

I was told, that he died on impact. That he didn't suffer more than a second, that the person speeding was drunk, or high on meth, or something, but he got arrested and sent to jail for 25 years. My parents, had done everything they could to tell Caleb to stay home, that I would come home on my own. Yet, for some reason, he acted out of character and went after me, his little sister. The cause of his death, I had so stupidly spent my time in a drunken daze slurring my words and yelling at the person, my older brother, that was trying to take care of me when I wasn't right in the head.

Because of me and my actions, my brother was killed in a car accident. A girl lost a boyfriend, a boy lost his best friend, parents lost a son, friends lost a leader, and the school lost an exceptional student. All because of me. I wouldn't be surprised if when my father breaks out of his saddened daze, that he will loathe the thieving daughter that he spawned. Be bitter and cruel because his only son was so selfishly taken from him. Of course, my parents are the type to trust each other so much that no matter what they don't question each other. They follow lead actually, so eventually my mother will catch onto my fathers newfound hate. And join in on the parade.

My mother places her soft hand on my shoulder for a moment, pulling me from my thoughts. "Beatrice, we're home," She says softly to me, she say sit as if a loud noise will make me crazy. As if I'm sick and I need help. I look to find her face and her soft features. Her skin isn't tight, nor is it sagy, it shows a sense of wisdom. I nod my head to her and she removes her hand. gesturing to the front dark door that may lead to the unfamiliar quiet. I step forward and hold the door open for her, she nods her thanks, folding her hands softly in front of her and looking around, eyes landing only a second on something near my father's study. I walk in after her and shut the door softly. I know that my father is indifferent towards me just by the air from him. I slink past him and up the stairs as my mother glances at the clock to start dinner.

While there is still daylight left I start doing any homework, this takes about an hour and a half, with my room now tinted a golden orange. With the sky dyed pink and magenta, fading up into purple and eventually blue. The fluffed clouds beaming golden light from our setting star and rotating Earth, yet another day has gone by, and the frenzy of lights will begin when the sky is no longer orange and bright. I get up and look out the window, seeing the city and the hill I used to call my second home. Panels of the glass and steel reflecting that light so it spreads throughout the city. Maybe tonight I could be the first to turn on the light, but I know that after previously staring at it for minutes, my mind will not let me brighten everything up. Not by my hand.

So I find a spot on my bed with my shoes off, and study what I can durring the time, until it is too hard to learn the inked words and I have to squint to read. Just as I close the book, my mother knocks twice respectively and opens the door, "Dinner is ready," I nod my thanks and get to my feet, placing the book on my made perfect bed. When I arrive downstairs, my father has already found his place at the table, I notice that Calebs seat is devoid, and my father is staring relentlessly at it. I find my place at the table as does my mother, we pray for a moment, then we eat in silence. My father eyeing me with little to no emotion across his eyes or face, it is out of habit and instinct that I do so back. However the entire time I realize I'm not hungry, and I wasn't from the beginning, but it would be rude not to eat the food my mother has prepared so I eat. It is not my place to talk before the elderly, so when my parents carry on a quiet conversation about work, it is my place to only listen.

After everyone has finished I stand and collect the plates, then begin washing them as mother sets a bath for herself. I ignore the presence behind me and focus on the task at hand, it is only when my father lets out a gruff "Beatrice," that I turn to face him. Do not speak unless spoken to, a rule of respect. He only now that his wife is out of presence glares at me as if I was not his daughter. "What can I do for you?" I ask monotone.

"Shut up to start," He growls, I shut my mouth and look at him. Other than angry he looks to be tried, exhausted actually, the black circles already claiming way around his eyes. "It's your fault, Caleb would have been at the table, talking about school if you weren't such a disgrace," He begins. I know it is my fault, I've known for some time now. "Stay out of my sight, I don't want to look at the reasoning behind my only boys death," He orders, I nod and turn around from him, continuing my focus on drying the dishes. When I'm done I lock up the house and turn off the lights, leaving me in darkness. Only after a few moments do my eyes begin to adjust, the moonlight gives off a little faded blue through the glass doors and windows.

Slowly walking upstairs, I see the faint warm glow of candlelight, coming from the bathroom. I also catch the soft voice of my mother, singing along to an older, less common song. It's called 'Always', I don't know by whom, she never told me. But if my mother likes her, she must be good. I close my door silently and clean my room for the next day, then I change into my night clothes. Undoing the ties in the drapes, crawling into the covers of my bed, and soon finding silent dreamless sleep.


	4. Word Games

Word Games

My father was once a kind man, he was respected, and loved by everyone. I remember being little and standing in the door to the bathroom When Caleb died because of me, after the night of the funeral, he changed. He snapped. Into a man I would be afraid to call my father, the man who was once loved. He leans against the counter, reading the paper and drinking coffee in the faint grey of the 5 o'clock morning light. I stand at the bottom of the stairs with my bag draped over my right shoulder. I am soundless, he continues reading. I find myself biting my lip while my hand rests lightly against the wooden railing. I have money in my wallet, I can buy food if I can sneak past him. The door is almost two meters away. I breathe in shallowly, then step down the last step, and make my way to the island in the kitchen.

My father does not look up at me, in fact, he takes a sip of his steaming coffee and sets it down, leaning on the counter with his hand as well. I chew on my bottom lip, the remnants of last nights declaration from him still fresh in my mind. I weave my way around the island towards the fridge to get some fruit, then I'll be on my way. I grab an orange off the top of the fridge. My father turns around, and rests his elbows and forearms on the counter. His head cast down, his dark brown hair ashy and his eyes dark green as they move across the paper. I glance at him before I walk out the front door, locking it.

My walk to school is short, uneventful, and I find myself arriving early. My hands smell like fresh opened citrus and orange even after I finish eating and washing my hands. My nails still have an orange yellow tint to them due to the peel.

This bathroom is small, with only 4 stalls. The mirror is cracked and a few pieces are broken and missing. My school is not one of eloquence. I do not look in the mirror in the bathrooms. My eyes do however, catch the writing in sharpie and lipstick on the walls, stall doors and mirrors. I cringe, reading one line in particular. Written in bright pink lipstick, "Stiff's never get any stiff," I feel my eyes narrow and I look at the mirror. Biting my lip and letting it go, making it dark cherry red, my fingers ripping out the tie in my hair. My hair is like gold, it's long and wavy, my fingers run through it and I unzip my jacket slightly, showing my chest a bit more than necessary. I look, different. My face is sharper and my features bold. Only once do I tell myself I am stunning. That I am pretty. I wet my lips as I put my hair back into a messy bun. Without me knowing, my feet carry me out of the bathroom before I do anything else. I read the time on my watch and see that it is only 6:20. With a sigh I drop off my bag and wander around school.

Eventually, I end up at the bleachers, the football field is hazed over in a light mist. It's so thick I'm afraid that if I walk into it, I'll find myself getting lost. The sun, however, beams down on it, making it bright out as gold rains down through the grey clouds. I watch a figure move through the mist, then a few more. They're jumping and spinning and twisting, jerking from side to side and going extremely fast. I stand in the mouth of the exit from the boys locker room. The cave that the football team would run out of. I listen to the grunts, the laughter and the voices of boys I'm assuming are from the school football team. Somehow I end up sitting on the bleachers watching the shouts of excitement and joy. The hoots of applause for a touchdown, and the cries of despair over a loss. Absentmindedly, I watch them.

Until one of them calls for a break. They all stand and exchange some form of okay. Caleb always said that the only purpose of sports was to boast and grow muscles that people wouldn't use on a regular basis. But to me, playing sports looks like it could be fun. Like it's not for building muscles, but for interaction and for a socialist group of people who share a similar interest. I can't help but envy them, for their free spirit. For their courage and such strong love for a sport that they don't care about other peoples opinions. But, that's who I was striving to be before the accident, if I have to lose someone each time I want to change myself I'd rather stay this way than have someone be hurt. A few of the boys leave for the cafeteria and breakfast, as they serve it now, later in the morning. A few stay, one of them gets punched in the shoulder and directed towards me. The one who was punched looks over at me, and I feel my body tense. I've been caught envying an activity I could never hope to take part in now.

I feel myself stand quickly as the one who was punched starts making his way to me. I deftly move down the two stairs, acknowledging how quiet my steps are, and walk as fast as I can back into the school. "Hey, wait!" I flinch, I feel bad enough as is. He's going to ask what's wrong with me, why I was staring, I pull myself into a jog and run from him. I hear his footsteps behind me, so I run harder. Just go away. Please. I'm at odds with which way to go at a fork in our school building. I pause only a second and I turn to the left, his body collides with mine when I start to run that way. We crash into the wall, my shoulder hits it hard. It's his reflexes that keep me from hitting my head as well.

His hands are on my shoulders and I feel shivers running down my spine, goose bumps spreading up my neck and making my hair stand on edge. His hands are large and tight around my arms, I resist any motions he makes for me to look at him. I don't like to be touched. His hands are rough so I jerk away and slam my back into a wall that I forgot was there. His hands find my shoulders again, he's warm. I look at his chest, seeing the collar of his shirt drenched in sweat. He smells masculine and I scrunch up my nose, it's too strong. The air is filled with panting, but it's not him, it's me. He bends down to look at my eyes, I look down, "Beatrice are you okay?" his voice is familiar. He knows my name. He knows who I am. I look up and see slightly tanned skin, a spare upper lip and full bottom one, a hooked nose and dark eyes. I feel mine widen, his face is carved like that of a Greek statue. He is one of the Dauntless, from Wil's table. He is also incredibly close. I nod curtly and pull my eyes from his, looking down. "Why'd you run?" he asks.

"Could you let me go?" My voice is small, he does so quickly. His eyes wide in alarm. I duck under his arm and walk off. He doesn't follow me.

Lunch rolls around faster than I'd like, and sadly, so does Wil. He puts his hand on my shoulder as we walk through the hall and doesn't remove it. My skin prickles with heat and I bite my lip, I don't like to be touched. "Hey Beatrice," I give him a small nod, shrugging away from him slightly. He doesn't seem to notice but he removes his hand, he guides me to his clique. Uriah, Christina and the boy from this morning are already there. I sit at the corner and Christina moves to sit next to me, I give her a wary look as she smiles at me. "Stay still Beatrice," My name sounds awkward as she says it, but I tense up when she stands behind me and pulls out my bun. I feel my eyes go wide when I realize that everyone at the table is looking. I sit up and look down, "Beatrice look up please," I feel her soft fingers on my chin as they guide my head up. Her other hand playing with my long blonde hair, it falls in wavy curls over my shoulders and down my back. I bite my lip as she looks at me, she smiles and whispers, "You look stunning,"

"Can I have the tie back?" I ask her, she hands it to me as she sits down and I catch my reflection in the glass across from me at the table. My breath catches and my fingers work faster than my mind does, it reminds me of the bathroom, and the words scribbled on the wall. My hair is in a messy bun at it's previous place yet again. Christina frowns but giggles, "Not used to it? Yeah I know," I stare at her, "I used to braid my hair every day it was so long, but I found it easier to just cut it all off," Her hair is still in a bun at the nape of her neck, her hair black and frizzy, but the bangs on her left side shield her eye and ear, longer in the front towards her nose. Though, they are streaked blonde in the outer layer. Christina, is the stunning one. I look back at the table, my head down. I wordlessly begin to eat, more than aware of the blue eyes trying to peel away at the cracks of my skin.

It's only after about five minutes of his staring that I feel my skin start to burn, the familiar frustration filling my blood and my body to the core. He doesn't relent even though anger is seething off of me, I know it is. My heart beats erratically in my chest, and I keep my face calm other than the glare I prepare. I sigh loudly and rise to my feet, slamming my hands down on the table with a deafening bang, and glaring into the very pit of his soul. His eyes widen when he sees this anger directed at him, I snarl in a voice not like my own, "What? Have I got something on my face?" Everyone at the table is staring at me. He shakes his head, "So what do you want?" I hiss,

"Where's your brother?" He asks, I feel my breath hitch in my throat, my demeanor falls. The tears form and fall faster than I can say no, "Beatrice I'm sorry," He says, obviously under distress seeing me like this. He's on his feet as soon as mine move for the door. I don't make it out of the hall though, I left my bag and everything, my legs give out and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out when I feel his hands on me. He's holding me and I want him to let go, the only words that come out of my mouth however are, "It's my fault, I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I'm so s-sorry Caleb," He's taking me somewhere and I can't stop crying, why can't I stop crying?

My eyes are blurry and eyelashes sticky. Cold wind hits my face and I flinch hard into his chest, he's warm, but after a jingle and a door being opened, I'm placed down onto a soft seat. I curl up and struggle with my sob racking body to calm down. My fingers pulling at my hair and clenching it the closer I press my knees to my chest. He doesn't say anything, I'm not even sure if he's even here. What does it matter? I was a bitch to him, I wouldn't expect him to be here. Maybe he went back into the school.

I lift my head and rest my chin atop my knees and stare out the window seeing as I'm in a car, letting the tears slowly fall, at least I've fought off the sobs. If he's still in the car I hope he doesn't mind me sitting like this. Well, he's a football player so it seems, almost 6 feet tall and handsome. And now that I revise it in my head I'm pretty sure he doesn't really care about my bare legs. There's nothing to really look at. My eyes focus on the frost building up on the window, the season becoming a deeper winter. Caleb, got into the accident a two weeks before ThanksGiving. I expect my mother and I will make the meal alone this year.

The bell rings, and students burst from the doors moments later, running and cheering, laughing and joking. I am broken from watching them in a trance when someone knocks against the driver side window. I don't look over, he opens the door and I hear Christinas voice, "Hey Four, how is she?" I watch in the reflection of the window, he takes my bag and my books. He looks at her, her hands resting on the roof of the car and her elbows bent, her butt sticking out but her legs straight. Her blonde frizz touching her lips lightly. Four only glances at her, but her eyes are locking with mine in the reflection. "Tris," I blink and take my bag, "Here's your stuff, you should take a day off, Four will take you home," At this I open the door and get out in one swift movement, slamming it with ease behind me.

Four is the first to spring to action, moving Christina aside he sprints and slides over the trunk of the car. Effectively planting his feet down in front of me and faster than I can blink his hands are on my shoulders and my back is pressed to the car. My breath catches when he glares at me, his eyes boring into mine. It makes me squirm, I feel like I'm going to burst into a puddle of tears, why is he glaring at me?

His fingers squeeze me, does he know this? "Four," I mumble, his face is too close to mine. I almost think he's going to kiss me, but then he says, "Beatrice, I'm sorry about Caleb, that I asked. I didn't know," I search his dark eyes for an explanation as to why he's still touching me. "But," he continues, "That doesn't give you an excuse to push people away," I stare at him, and I take in the way his dark eyelashes brush just under his eyebrow. The way he struggles with clenching and unclenching his jaw. How his breath smells of mint and cinnamon, and how strong and firm his hands are on me. "Four," I mumble once again, he looks at me with wide eyes.

Then something odd happens. I've only known this group of people for about a week, today being Friday, I only just learned of this boys name. Yet, I've just noticed such a strong physical attraction to this boy. Does this happen to every girl? Is that why Four was called 'eye candy'? But maybe I'm being selfish, going back to the girl that killed my brother. But I can't help but wonder as I'm breathing the same air as this, very, attractive boy, what would happen if I were to lean in a little bit, and have someone for the first time in years touch my bare skin? So, being as curious as I am, I shift my gaze from his eyes to his nose and to his lips, his spare upper and full bottom lip. Down to his chin, which looks chiseled. He seems to notice my ogling as I haven't said anything else to him other than his name while his body presses me to the car.

What would he do if I leaned up and kissed him? It would be my first, but I'm sure he's kissed many other girls before. What would it feel like? My breath is his as I hold it, and I slide my hands gently to cup is strong jaw. My eyes instinctively close as I press my lips to his. His lips are a bit rough, but in a boyish way. He doesn't move away, but he probably doesn't feel the same rush of heat that I do when I kiss him gently. I break from the kiss, seeing as he didn't kiss back, I open my eyes and smile at him, my lips closed. He stares at me in awe, the tops of his ears red and his cheeks getting a bit pink. Is he blushing? He doesn't release me though, so I stare at him, my smile slowly falling from my face. I feel what I'm guessing to be Christinas eyes burning into me. I don't dare break away from his deep midnight blue eyes though.

Then as I'm about to pull away and apologize, he leans down and brushes his lips against mine, before actually kissing me, hard. What feels like shocks and fireworks spreads through my body, and I can't help but think, 'wow'. I feel like we've been kissing for only a second, but it must have been a while, because Christina clears her throat and I break from him yet again. He's still leaning to me so I softly move my thumb to his bottom lip. He stops and opens his eyes, looking at me with… I don't know. I look at Christina to see her jaw dropped. I give Four a quick smile and slip away from his grip, picking up my bag and walking towards home.

**Most of you are probably wondering, "What the heck just happened?!" Well, Beatrice is, Tris, ahhh the wonders and powers of curiosity. I'll admit I wanted this to happen, and I kinda feel bad for not building up the relationship with them more, but I intend to make it happen! It's all part of the plot I'm afraid. **


	5. Light Switch

Light Switch

The regrets hit me as soon as I walk through the front door to my house. I just kissed, or maybe made out with Four, a total stranger. Who, might I add, kissed me the second time. I can't believe I had the guts to do that. I didn't even know I was one of those girls who take chances. Even more confusing, Four kissed me? Does he like me? No there's no way. My body closes the door and my back slides down slowly, my butt touches the hardwood and now I realize I'm early home. Something unsettling pangs in my chest as my eyes find the closed dark wood doors to my fathers office. Maybe he's out at a meeting. I'm about to get up when I hear footsteps upstairs. My eyes widen and water in fear, my breaths become shallow and quick, I'll be in so much trouble if my father sees me home early. It can't be my mom, she went to volunteering today. She left early too. "Beatrice," A woman's voice says, my heart slows down and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. "Beatrice is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," I say, getting to my feet. My mother walks slowly down the stairs, looking at me with concern. A small smile finds it's way to my face as does one on hers. "Hey mom," I say.

"Beatrice, honey, is everything alright?" I nod,

"Just wasn't feeling too well," It's sort of true.

"School isn't out for another hour or so," She says while lowering herself to the bottom step of the stairs, "I don't see the point in making you go back," I smile at her, I don't think I could face Four after that thing that happened against his red car. Then it hits me, "Mom, I thought you had volunteering today?"

"I did,"

"So… Are you alright?" She sighs and looks down at her hands, which are intertwined. "Yes my dear. I am fine," Her voice is soft and gentle, "I know it's selfish of me, but I don't know if I could face anyone with all of them knowing, that your brother…" She trails off. I met a few of my mom's friends before, most of them I thought were crazy when I was little. But now, that I'm older, I understand that Auntie Suzana-she's not really my aunt but she's my mom's bestie- went to school with my mom. And I remember sitting on her old wooden porch sipping fresh iced sweet tea, and listening to all the crazy things that she and my mom would do together. I'm always told I'm just like her, and now I think I get it. As if reading my mind my mom says "Beatrice, it's not your fault, you know. It's okay to be you, I don't want to be hiding behind this dull grey expressionless mask that your father created," Then she comes up to me and says, "Do you want to know a secret?"

"Yes,"

"You have to promise not to tell," I nod, "Sometimes, I miss being young, wild, a rebel against the rules, and free to do what I want,"

"Why don't you ever go back?"

"Because dear, I gave all of it to you, and I never want to take it back," I stare at her, her eyes a grey that looks almost a soft purple and her hair long and blonde. "I'll tell you another secret. The best kiss I ever had, was with a handsome boy who liked me, I decided to be daring again and I kissed him so hard we had a whole make out session," She laughs when I make an 'eww' noise. "His name was Josh, and I went out with him for a while, and I even fell in love. He was my first for everything," she tells me.

"What happened?"

"Josh, was Andrews best friend, Josh didn't know your father liked me. So they got in a fight, and Josh had to move away," She speaks with such sorrow it makes me hurt. I long for a man for my mom. But then there's that question, "Aren't you happy with Andrew?" She presses her lips together in a thin pink line, before looking at me, putting a hand on my shoulder, "I am happy I had you and your brother, I am happy with you," She tells me. And now I understand, but I don't at the same time.

It's a few hours later and my mom and I are in the kitchen talking about dinner when the doorbell rings. Her and I exchange a glance before I stand and walk towards the door, opening it slowly. It's a quarter of the way open when I realize it could be Four, too late now. I am both shocked and pleasantly surprised to see Christina standing there. Her blonde streak and all. "Tris," I'm confused at first because of the name and her condition, she's panting and sweating, "Christina, did you run here?"

"Can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah," she walks in slowly and sits at the table across from my mom. Who gets her a glass of water and some fruit. After a few minutes Christina looks at me and says, "Four told me to find you,"

"Why?" I ask,

"Who's Four?" My mom asks,

"You left your phone in his car, and Four is the hottest guy in schoo- I mean, he's a friend," Christina explains. My mom gives me a worried look, "What were you doing in his car?"

"She had a mental breakdown on him and he thought it would be a bad idea to take her to the nurse, so he took her to his car so she could cry and such," Christina fills in for me, because I stay silent.

"Is that why you came home so early?" I nod, and Christina looks at me.

"What was it about Tris?" She asks,

"Beatrice honey, what happened?"

"Caleb," His name is enough to answer my mom, thus allowing her to explain everything to Christina. Who's face of confusion turns to one of pity and remorse. When my mom finishes Christina looks at me and surprises me, instead of apologizing she says, "That explains a lot, I wish I knew, I'm good at helping my friends out when they need someone to talk to, you could have just told me Tris. You can trust me," I look at her in a way that says thank you and reads confusion at the same time. She gives me a comforting smile and holds my hand. I almost think that everythings going to be okay until she says, "That still doesn't explain why you kissed Four," My eyes widen and my mom stares at me with a small smile on her face.

"Beatrice, I must see this boy," I almost want to laugh, so I don't fight the grin that has made it's way to my face. Although my face is hot and theres no doubt that I'm blushing, I ask, "Christina, you know that was my first kiss right?" She gasps and squeals, flailing her arms around a bit like a teenage girl freaking out over a boy. And thats exactly what she's doing, I laugh along with my mom while she repeats 'omg omg,' over and over. I'm soon bombarded with questions, "How was it? How did it feel? Did you like it? Was he rough? Were his lips soft? Was he gentle with you? Do you like him?!" I laugh even harder before answering them,

"It was," I pause, thinking, "Everything I never stopped to imagine. It felt like fire but the warm comforting kind, and it made my heart pound, it was both scary and thrilling at the same time. I loved it, and I know love is a strong word but it was amazing Christina. He was a little 'rough' with me when he kissed me for sure but the rest he was gentle. And yeah, his lips her soft, in a boy way, they were a bit chapped though, and rough in a way that meant he bit his lip a lot," Christina and my mom are both staring at me waiting for the answer to the last question, and I feel myself blush yet again. "Promise not to tell?"

"I promise," swears Christina, while my mother zips her mouth shut.

"Yeah, I like him," Just like that Christina starts squealing again, while my mom beams at me, "Only a little bit!" I say and they continue. A little while later Christina goes home after hanging out with us, and my mom and I start making dinner. We have chicken with mixed vegetables and bread. My father gets home just as it's done. Quickly I set the table and make him a plate, allowing him to eat first, as the man of the house. My mom and I find our places at the table a few minutes later, my father doesn't hesitate to begin reciting to us the ups and downs of his day at work. My mom and I exchanging glances that he doesn't see the whole time, an eye roll from her would mean she's bored and an eye flutter from me in return would be I know how you feel.

Thankfully, the night went on without a hitch. My father too tired to insult me or do anything drastic and my mother too kind to let me do the dishes. So my feet carry me upstairs in a blissful attempt to fall into bed for a rest. Yet as I lay there staring at the ceiling my mind races in question and in memory of Caleb. I can't sleep, and it's too late for me to wake up my mom for company. I wish I could talk to him, somehow. A soft cold breeze flows into my room and I turn my head towards my window. The hill we used to play on is in the near distance, my heart longs for Caleb and those precious moments we had together. Before I know it, my body moves on its own and I'm sliding on my shoes.

Leaving the house silently, I make my way to the hill where I grew up in desperate need for my brother. The wind is cold against my skin and I hug my jacket closer while I hike up the hill. It brings me both happiness and sorrow to see the tree that sits atop it. But I do whats best and what I came here for and lay down in the soft wet cold grass. My eyes are closed, and I admit I'm worried that this is a dream, and I'll wake up as soon as I open them, but I'm reminded of the stars and I take the chance.

My eyes open and they're greeted with the prettiest stars I've ever seen it makes me start to cry. They're soft small dots and specks of white orange sometimes blue light. I remind myself to breathe as I start to think. Caleb loved stars and he was always a good boy. I don't believe in god or heaven, but if theres a chance that it's real, then I would talk to Caleb while he's laughing and smiling in heaven in the stars. It might seem ridiculous, but I start to talk to the sky about my day, imagining how I would tell Caleb about my first kiss, and how stressful school can be. I tell him about mom's confession even though it was a secret and how much fun it would be if he met Christina and William. I say how I know he would have a love hate relationship with Four. And then towards the end of preaching my day to him, I tell him I love him. That I miss him, that I'm sorry and I'm trying to be a good daughter. I tell him what Andrew has been doing and saying and I start to cry. The stars overhead and the breeze cooling my skin, I cry and rack my body with sobs. Knowing Caleb would always do his best to protect me.

**Okay, so I know this is a shorter chapter but it's like half past 2 in the morning and I wanted to say Happy New Year! c:**


	6. Flicker

Flicker

My glazed eyes open slowly, seeing my white ceiling and then my window, which, oddly, is open. However it is warm out so the cool breeze is welcome. Sitting up and viewing my room, nothing is out of place and everything is clean. My feet touch the hardwood floor when I get out of bed. The cold of the floor spreading through my bare feet giving me shivers. The door to my room is heavy, and I push it open slowly. I'm met with the familiar door of my brothers, which is cracked open. We've always kept it shut sense his passing.

The clatter of plates and dishes stops me from going in. I make my way downstairs to find my mother doing dishes and father at the island reading the news paper. I walk up cautiously, standing there a moment, before clearing my throat. They both ignore me, so I walk over next to my mom and start drying the plates she washes. Neither of them say a word to me or each other, my mom looks different. Almost crestfallen while my father seems almost chipper. I'm about to speak when I hear a voice I last heard pleading to me, "I just can't get over it, school won't be the same, I won't be the same," he says. Caleb, in all of his intellectual glory walks in from the living room. "Caleb?" I whisper.

He stops, seemingly looking at me before burst into tears and falls to his knees, "Caleb," I say again.

"I miss her so much!" he wails,

"I know Caleb, I miss her too, we all do," My mom comforts. My father makes this grunting sound, earning a furious glare from my mom. I'm confused about who they are referring to when my mom holds Caleb in her arms petting his hair and whispering, "She's in a better place,"

"It should have been me!" He screams at her, shoving her away.

"Caleb," my father growls.

"I should have died not Bea!" Caleb screams. I feel my eyes widen. Then the panic sets in. Before I blink I'm on my knees in front of my sobbing brother while he continues, "You didn't let me go dad!" he yells.

"Your sister was a worthless piece of space and getting nowhere in this family!" My fathers voice shakes the house. Caleb stares up at him, still crying, but his eyes are in awe as his face is twisted in confusion, and disgust. My mom on the other hand has a face of fury as she stands in rage, a deafening sound of skin hitting skin fills the air as she slaps my father across the face. Then she screams red faced at him, "That was my daughter! That was my baby! You son of a bitch!" Then she shoves him against the island and takes off her wedding ring. "Burn in Hell Andrew I want a divorce." She states and curses. Caleb just stays on the ground crying, I scoot next to him and allow myself the simple pleasure of rubbing his back in slow big circles. His body is warm and soft, this is my brother, with his auburn hair and green eyes. Though they are bloodshot and filled with tears I still admire how handsome he is.

I hear my fathers voice, "Your daughter?"

"She's not yours Andrew!" My mother yells at him, his rage is contained and gone for a moment. But it comes back just as fast and twice as strong, "You whore!" He yells before he strikes her down. Her cheek already showing the handprint, I hear my brother and I gasp. "You slept with that bastard Josh! Didn't you!? You unfaithful ungrateful bitch!" I'm shocked beyond words, but my body gets to work where my mind doesn't, and I find myself and Caleb upstairs in the hall. Between both our doors.

He stops at my room before walking quickly into his, I follow, seeing him grab something from in his closet, before he goes just as fast to my room. He struts silently over to my open window and places down a makeup mirror, along with eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, and a few brushes. Why would my brother have makeup? Then he says, his voice cracking and groggy, "I would say 'don't tell dad' but," he sighs. "You are beautiful, you always were. You're my little sister and you always will be to me. You deserve to stand out and be you, I'm proud of you no matter what. I love you no matter what," He stays quiet for a moment, "I was going to give you this for Christmas," he looks out the window, at the tree and hill we claimed as our own, "I miss you Bea," he whispers. I feel my face get wet, this is my brother, alive, loving me. I'm about to say that I love him too, but my mom screams for help and Caleb.

He's up in a second sprinting through the house, and while I know that I should go with. This is all too surreal so I walk over to what he got me, a small sad smile finds it's way to my face until my eyes lock onto the mirror. I'm wearing a white dress that hugs my body, but goes down to my shins, its slightly flowy the further down you get. Behind me are wings, pure white like fine powder flower. Until my eyes catch something red, dark red, smeared on some of the feathers. It drips onto the floor of my bedroom, letting out an eerie tapping, it's thick and suddenly the smell hits me. The tangy metallic smell of blood. I gasp and step back too fast, slipping on the red life and falling. I fall through the floor, the dark hardwood breaking and splintering beneath me. A scream erupts from my mouth as my body is eaten by black.

My fall is quickly, but not too soon, halted like I've been slammed into a brick wall, or floor. I cough and sputter, groaning as my lungs struggle to regain what was reaped from me. I sit up after a minute of laying there panting. I reach out my hand, all the way, slowly bringing it closer until I touch my face. I can't see at all, I need light. Is all I think. I need a light really bad.

I wake with a jolt, screaming something incoherent, my mom comes running in saying "Beatrice it's okay!" Her arms are around me in seconds as she holds me, I didn't even know I was crying. A few minutes later my body has stilled enough for her to pull away from me. Her blue eyes lock with mine and I want to ask her so many questions. So many involving what I just dreamt about. But then I remind myself that dreams are just dreams and are very rarely real. I shake my head slowly, looking down at my hands, seeing a small, soft, white, and bloody feather in my hands. "It was just a dream," I remind myself. Am I finally losing it? My mom gives me this farfetched and tired look before saying soothingly, "Beatrice," I look at her, at her thin face and long wavy blonde hair. "No matter what, I love you okay?" I nod, "You are my everything,"

"But not Andrews," I blurt. Her eyes go wide.

"Beatrice," She whispers. My body goes in automatic as I get up, "Follow me," I tell her. She follows me into Caleb's room, and I explain to her while looking for his gift, that he got me girly things as a small rebellion. I do exactly what he did, lifting up a neatly folded blue polo and finding all the makeup and mirror that he got me in my dream. My heart pounds in my chest as I turn and look at her. I show her and she only stares at me with awe and shock on her face. "Theres no way you could have known," She whispers. "He came to me when he noticed you changing, and he asked me what you needed, what colors. What to use for you," I nod nonchalantly. "How did you know?" I look at her with a certain pang of hurt in my chest. "I didn't know, until tonight," I say. My mom, doesn't even know the half of it, "Andrew, isn't my real dad, is he," I declare rather than ask.

For the first time ever, my mom stiffens, frozen in conflict with herself not knowing what to do or how to respond. Her eyes are wide with curiosity and alarm, almost denial. Then she closes her mouth, slightly composing herself, as it had dropped open while I continued, "He's hit you a few times hasn't he, Andrew," I don't doubt it, nor do I question it, and her silence is as much of an answer as a sentence would be. I start to put it all together, "He used you against Josh. Hurt you so he would stay away, so you ran from him when you had enough, and you got pregnant with me, I was Josh's baby, not Andrews, but he didn't know, he doesn't know that, does he," My mom looks at me like a I'm a different person and not her blood. Like I've opened her mind and she's hearing all of her dark secrets out loud, being rehearsed again like they aren't her own. The look on her face is one of pure horror, I've never seen it like that before, I ache for her, but I need to know. "Caleb," She whispers, "Had to fight Andrew to go and bring you home," I nod, confirming the words that dream Caleb had screamed. "You want to divorce Andrew, don't you?" I just ask. Though all the words, sounds, questions and my own voice sound flat, like I'm indifferent about all of this. Inside I'm panicking and cracking, breaking down and searching through the rubble as to how and why I'm doing this, how I know all of this.

My mom nods slowly, "I didn't know how I would do it with you in the house so I was going to wait until you turned 18, Andrew would hurt you,"

"He's been hurting you for the past 16 years," I retaliate,

"Beatrice,"

"Where's Josh?" I ask,

"Beatrice," She repeats sounding firmer, "It's 3 a.m." I give her a look before saying, "Perfect time to sneak out right?" When did I become like this? So suggestive and open to being bold. I don't know, maybe I've always been like this, I just let Andrew push me down. While my mom and Caleb have always had my back, even if it was in secret. My moms eyes lock on to mine, "Are you in?" I asked a former adrenalin junkie that. Something crazy must be possessing me to ask her that. She looks away from me, at Calebs bed, deep in debate of disobeying Andrew or doing for once what she wants. Then she clenches her hands into fists, rolling her shoulders back and looking at me with a fierce calm saying, "Hurry, get changed and wait for me downstairs," I nod, "Don't make a sound," she warns me. Swiftly and silently I make my way back into my room, bringing Calebs gifts with me.

I step up to my closet, I decide that if I'm going to meet my dad, my real dad, that he should meet the real me. Shoving all of my grey, boring, oversized clothing away, I find the black leather suitcase that has some of my black clothing in it.

The clothes that I like.

I'm done getting dressed within a few minutes, changing from an oversized grey shirt and sweatpants, to a red push up bra and matching underwear. A black long sleeved crop top with the word 'Riot' in white printed on it. I run my hand through my dirty blonde hair and let it fall down my back. I slip into black tight jeans, with my black all stars converse. I grab my phone and keys shoving them in my back pockets, before grabbing a black hoodie and walking downstairs. I pull my hood up after putting it on and sit in the chair that dream Andrew was in. I play with my phone and try to erase and change everything on it that Andrew made me do.

The time is 3:22 when my mom comes downstairs, she's wearing worn out blue jeans and a black T-shirt, she offers me a small smile, and kisses my forehead, "You ready?" she asks quietly, "Are you?" I ask back. She smiles a little before grinning and saying "Yes," I get to my feet as she walks to the coat rack. "What do I have of his?" She stops fussing with her jacket and looks at me, "His eyes," she smiles genuinely and I smile back so hard my cheeks hurt.

She opens the door and leads me to the car. A white Chevy sedan, and honestly it's a good car, though it looks like a sports model. She unlocks the passenger side and lets me in before she sits in the drivers seat. She places her hand on the wheel, and whispers, "It's been a while," Then she runs her hand along the dashboard, as if soothing it. The interior is all black leather. "You ready baby?" She says and I can't tell if she's talking to me or the car.

She flicks her wrist with the key in the ignition and it revs to life. She pulls the car out of park and into reverse as she pulls out of the driveway. The floor rumbles with the engine and I imagine it's like a heartbeat, accelerating faster and faster. I buckle up as she shifts into drive and I find out pretty quick that this car can go from 0 to 80 in about 2 seconds. Soon we're passing into the city deeper and deeper into the chilled black of a sleeping city of concrete. It takes an hour for my mom to get through half of the city, not saying anything.

I'm perplexed when a half hour later we pull into an empty parking lot, in front of a building that looks run down and abandoned. She cuts the engine and gets out. I follow suit and ask her, "Are you sure?" As in is she ready for this. She nods and keeps walking towards the building. We enter the old skyscraper, surprisingly, the power still works. Though the lights are dim and flicker slightly. We walk straight to the elevator, so far we are the only people here, when the elevator doors close I whisper, "We are the only ones here," She smirks, "Pay attention Beatrice," So I do, my mom looks about 10 years younger this way, wearing what she wants and she's confident. She's 36 but she looks to be in her early 20's. Happy, free, excited. We wait until the 40th floor, which is insane.

I expect the hallway to be empty and barren, but I'm quickly corrected and shocked as the door opens. People wearing all black push past each other and bustle through the hall, which is more of an office floor, but there are stations for food, like little shops. Clothes, food, commodities, beauty. It's almost unbelievable. This was an office and cubicle building, but the people here have turned it into something else.

My mom leads the way, with her right foot forward in combat boots. She nods and smiles at seemingly strangers, and they do so back. I feel so out of place, Andrew has taught me to keep my head down and stay silent. Locked me away from people of great ambition and compassion. And here, like at the damned party, I want to do the opposite of what he told me. Finally after weaving through the crowd of always moving people always friendly and busy people, we come to a door. A dark big purple door with a code painted on it in a soft gold. My mom knocks in a pattern of two then one, then three. A moment later the door swings open and I press myself against the wall to avoid the tall figure that swiftly engulfs my mom in a bone crushing hug. He even picks her up. Disturbingly he smashes his lips to hers and they totally forget I'm there, well he didn't know, but my mom did. They kiss for a minute or so completely in passion.

Thankfully I don't stand there awkwardly watching my mom and Josh kiss each other for very long. My mom is the first to break from the kiss as she whispers something in his ear, he slowly sets her down after that. Then he turns to me, looking like he's going to either punch something or cry. He says boldly, powerfully, deeply, get gently, "Let's go inside," We follow him into his apartment, or house which is much bigger than it looks from the outside. Everything in it is black, but the place is clean almost like he cleans as a hobby. He closes the door quietly and my mom sits on one of the couches. Josh is a tall man, like he plays football with broad shoulders, he has sand colored hair, almost a light brown. His eyes are a stormy grey like mine. His jaw strong, and nose with a long thin bridge but it's crooked like it's been broken. He walks over, in two long strides and gestures to the couch across from my mom.

I sit, watching every move he makes. He sits down slowly, not too close and not too far from my mom. His eyes skim my body, my face, my figure, my clothes. He speaks up, "My name is Josh," a perfect place to start. I nod, already knowing what he doesn't. "I know," he smirks,

"How much do you know?"

"Your name," I count on my fingers, "Your relationship with my mom, and, that I have your eyes," He says nothing, to me anyway, "That's your daughter?" my mom nods, so he doesn't know I'm his. I feel my shoulders fall, "Natalie, she's beautiful," He tells her, my mom smiles and nods again, not saying the words we are both thinking. "Josh," She says softly, turning towards him and taking his large hand in hers. "Yes?" He asks,

"She's yours," His eyes snap to mine in an instant. His jaw slack and his eyes watering and widening, he mouths the word before saying it, and I know I expected it but it still hurts, "What?"

**Heeyyyy c: I'm sorry I was so busy and practically skipped a week of updates, but heres a chapter, and when I'm not at my computer I hand write everything, which was about 8 pages front to back for just this chapter. And it also takes much longer to copy and re-read writing rather than just typing so I'm sorry for taking so long in this typing process. Oh! And! I do write so much that I fall asleep typing... SO I try! Of Course will be posted soon!**


	7. Into Light

Into Light

He smiles, a small surprised quirk with his upper lip curled a bit. His eyes drift to my mom, "Natalie," he laughs, "You were always one to keep good secrets," His eyes lock with mine after he eyes my body. "But this one, by far, is your most shocking," my mom looks down ashamed. Her hands closed into fists in her lap. He wraps a big arm around her shoulders, brushing some hair behind her ear as he says, "Don't be so self deprecating," My mother is on her feet in a second storming for the door, his fingers are around her wrist in half that time. "Why didn't you tell me sooner Natalie? Why now?"

"She found out about us,"

"Us? Or that she is my, child?" Josh smiles.

"I dreamt it sir," I say, not knowing what else to call him, but the look on his face is one of astonishment. "Dreamt it? How?" I didn't know if he knew about Caleb or not, but I launched into an explanation anyway. His eyes mirroring mine only showed pain, but his face twisted from curiosity to regret, then to remorse and pity like Christina. After I finished, he looked down at his hands for a small moment before asking my mom and partly me what we were going to do. My mom, wordless and struggling to find some, remained silent. Though she returned to her spot next to Josh, she made no move to ask for comfort or sympathy. I spoke up, "Andrew, will find out, and it won't be very pretty," My mother being a strong headed person and refusing to back down continued my question, her voice slightly strained, "Josh, I haven't left until now because I had plans to leave Andrew when Beatrice turned 18. Now that she knows, he's bound to find out. It would be most wise to seek shelter before the storm. The last thing we need right now are for the lights to go out," Josh nodded and pressed his lips in a thin line while my mom bit her lip. It was strange looking at the two of them and I couldn't help but compare and contrast myself between the two of them.

I had Josh's eyes, but I had my moms willowy figure, I had her dirty blonde hair. Yet I had his spanish lips but my moms nose. I'm a strange combination between my birth parents. Josh puts his hand in my moms and squeezes, "You could stay with me," He says, I feel my lips part, he's not serious is he? "How did you get here Natalie?"

"Andrews car," She whispers,

"I know it's a lot to ask of both of you, but our safest bet right now is to drive back and get some clothes, personal belongings, things like that. When we have more time to think and we're not running around then we can go get everything else, sound good?" He proposes, to me it sounds good so I lock eyes with my mom, her soft blue orbs lost in misery and confusion. I nod my head slightly, she looks back at Josh, looking helpless. "Okay," She whispers, Josh smiles lightly and helps her stand. "I'll see what I can do about Andrews car, and we can be on our way," Seemingly in agreement, we're out of the apartment and walking towards the elevator. Josh redirects my mom down a less crowded hallway and I watch the way that their feet move in sync. The way his arm is around her waist and his hand on her elbow, how she almost leans into him but stays on her feet.

In the elevator I look up, seeing my own reflection staring back at me. Except the girl I'm looking at only moves when I do, her mouth dropped open slightly. Her eyes like ice and her posture stiff. Her hair looking like white vanilla and chocolate being put in. I knew that this was what I looked like, but now, I felt no relation to her. The elevators doors opened with a hushed ding. Josh leads us outside, "I'll get rid of the tracker on andrews car and we can drive both there. Tris, can ride with me," My mother nods to him and walks briskly to her car, popping the hood while Josh gets a navy woven duffle bag full of tools. He gets to work immediately and I sit on the cold asphalt, my head tilted towards the sky, my eyes closed, just feeling the gentle breeze bite and nip at my cheeks and nose. I remember nights like this, spring was coming to an end, but the nights were still cold. Caleb and I would sit out back drinking cocoa I made, talking about everything and nothing.

It was on a night like this that I told him that I didn't feel comfortable in my own skin. I had contemplated talking to him about it for fear that he would judge me, or worse, resent me. My brother never ceased to amaze me because he sat there and listened to me. Listened to my disrespectful babbling about my clothes and the rules of this house. That I couldn't even be free at school. He told me that sometimes rules are there for a reason, but the ones that tie you down aren't good. He told me it was okay to break the rules sometimes. Within limits yes.

"We're all set," I heard Josh say as he cleaned off his hands. I opened my eyes and felt them water at the frost bitten chill of the night. I look at the black box in his hand he smirks to himself and puts it on a different car. I feel torn down the middle. Half of me wants to smile and laugh and scream out of glee because I won't be oppressed from who I am, but the well trained school brat in me says to go back to Andrew and pretend that I wasn't cracking the perfect mold he made. Josh guides me to his black silverado ram truck and helps me inside, but he goes back out to kiss my mother and reassure her.

Getting lost in thought I feel the cold of the glass press against my temple, giving my body numbing shivers down my spine. My rebellion had it's second uprising when I decided to kiss Four. Just because I wanted to know how it felt. Strange how kissing him was only yesterday. I wonder if I'll make it to school tomorrow. Taking a pause I almost laugh at myself, latch onto something normal when everything you knew was a lie. Good freaking job Beatrice, but then again maybe I'm not Andrews daughter anymore, technically I never was. Meeting Josh was both good and bad, bad because it throws a wild card into the world, good, because it gives my mom and I another chance at getting life right. My mother can be her free spirit without Andrew, and I can discover who my body and mind clashed to be.

The drive back to Andrews house was short, maybe because we didn't want to come back here. Parking half a block away for safe measure we all make our way to the house. On the outside it looks like an old victorian house, one that used to thrive with life, but suddenly died on the inside and just stands for show. My mother fumbles with the keys a moment, we all stand at the sidewalk for a minute. "Remember, take only what you need and the extremely valuable, we can make other runs," Josh hums, his breath hot fog in the black air.

We're in the house in moments, Josh motions that he'll wait downstairs, my mom and I make our way upstairs silently. We stop at my door and the silence screams in my ears, my mother puts a finger to her lips and hugs me for a moment before making her way to the master bedroom.

I open my door, seeing the makeup I left behind sitting on my bed. Grabbing chargers and my laptop, journals full of writing and any small item easy to bring along. Sentimental things that can't be bought, moving towards my closet like a shadow I find my duffle bag and suitcase, grabbing the clothes I like, the ones I bought for myself I put them in both. Grabbing shoes and jackets, placing more delicate items in between the clothes. Striding into my bathroom I lift up a floorboard and take out a black box, half the length of my forearm and thick. It has all of my photos of Caleb, Susan, Robert and I. There are small trinkets and letters from other people, like crushes and past friends. I place the box in my suitcase. Then I move quickly into Caleb's room.

It smells thickly of him in here, clean laundry and basil. I grab a few of his shirts, some of his favored books, his lighter that he kept as a symbolic thing, explaining how wild fire can be, but how stunningly easy it is to contain it. He was always fascinated with fire, sometimes I would catch him flip up the silver and then snap it back down. He never smoked though, I suppose he had it for other reasons than what he told me. I slide the silver box easily into my pocket, along with his wallet with his ID. These were the small items he had on him when he died.

Slipping out of my brothers room and back into mine to get my stuff, I head downstairs silently. Josh has collected a small pile of photos for us, I almost smile, but notice that mom hasn't come down yet. I'm about to ask where she is but I'm interrupted by a muffled cry. Josh and I are up the stairs like lightning. I'm faster though and I break through the master bedroom door like it's nothing. I'm panting and I feel the adrenaline coursing through my blood, my heart pounding, my eyes land on something I wish they didn't. Andrew, stands above my mother who is crumpled on the floor. He holds a knife in his hands, he's hissing and cursing at her, my ears register before I tell them to, "You think you could run from me you little bitch, you think I don't know what you've been up to? Your fucking whore of a daughter took my son away, I will not allow you to leave free of charge," He raises the knife while his hand grips her pale hair, my body does something I didn't know it was capable of.

I've sprinted towards him so fast he can't look up before I knock the blade out of his hand, grabbing his wrist and dancing around my mother I slammed my elbow into his chest. He keeled over and I ushered my mom up, Josh already holding her things and grabbing others like what little jewelry she had. They are out of the room in a jolt and I have the knife, Andrew stands like an animal, staring me down. I grip the handle and breathe, my body trembling with excitement. "What are you going to do girl? Stab me?" I breathe and turn the blade in my hand and turn.

"No," I huff and throw the blade out the window, the shattering bound to wake someone up, Andrew snarls and starts for me. I easily evade him with the powerful drugs flowing through me, running to the door he almost catches me, last second I jerk my body to the side, cocking back my fist and swinging it forward. It collides with his nose and his body jerks back from the impact. He falls back and slams his head on the floor. I know he's not out and his recovery time is astonishing, so I storm over and kick his temple good and hard. His head snaps to the left and I know he's out cold. Breathless I run out of the room, down the hall, down the stairs, grabbing my things wordlessly and ignoring the alarmed glances from both of them and stalking out the door. My vision fogging black, I force myself to breathe. We throw our things in the back and Josh hooked up Andrews car to tow.

Struggling to catch my breath and calm down, Josh helps me into his truck, and then my mom. We leave in silence. Only the sound of switching gears and the lively hum of the engine gave any of us comfort. For what seemed like 40 minutes later, I caught Josh with a small smile on his face. I smiled lightly and relaxed against the seat, choosing not to think about the fight or flight mode that my body held. A while later, Josh smiled at my mom and me, I suppose I would do my best to lighten the mood as well. But given the circumstances I might not. I'm still shaken from what I did, I can't imagine how my mother is feeling. We sat in his truck, the car being towed behind us, it was an uneasy silence for a few minutes. When we came up to a red light he sighed and I asked, "What's your house like?" He smiled,

"Big, I hope you're used to boys, I got two of them," I feel a smile creep onto my lips, the thought of having brothers again sprouting a flower in my mind, giving way to sunlight in the black clouds of confusion and anger. Caleb could never be replaced, but that shouldn't stop me from welcoming new members into my family life. "What are they like?" I ask, biting my lip.

"Boys," He laughs, "Loud, they tend to be a little reckless, but they take after me so that's to be expected," Every word is like a promise of a future, it flutters an excitement I only had in me when Auntie Suzana would reenact her wild adventures or whip out maps or journals and tell me all of her darkest secrets. It makes me want to yell at Josh to slam down on the acceleration. "They go to your school," He says,

"What are their names?" I ask,

"You probably know them," I furrow my brow in frustration, "They play football and soccer for your school, though they tend to be foolish at times, I couldn't ask for better boys,"

"How old are they?"

"One is your age, the older is 18," I stop and think, taking this all in. Josh is light hearted about his family, he's comfortable, happy. I felt like a kid in a candy store getting all this information, but he radiates proud-ness. Would he be this way with me once he accepts me? If, he accepts me. "Will they be okay with this?" I ask, I don't want them not to like me, and my mom could use an easier time right now. Josh looks in the rear view mirror at me, our eyes the same shade of fog rolling at your feet. "That is to be revealed soon," At that I stop asking questions. We drive in silence, but my mom keeps this small smile on her lips. I cant help but grin, my excitement something precious to her, putting in crystal filling in all the cracks making her beautiful again.

Eventually, Josh pulls up to a two story white house, windows are the walls and I realize we're in the nice part of the city. A garden of roses awaits us at 5 in the morning, the sun turning the sky a soft shade of blue grey. The petals normally red and orange a dark purple and faded grey, it's beauty shocks me. I wouldn't expect a house of boys to appear like this. My eyes catch the sky again and the stars are blinking out, then I'm reminded I have to get up in an hour.

Josh kills the engine and hops out, running in front of the truck and opening my moms door. Exhaustion wears her features and she looks years older, he unbuckles her seatbelt and drapes his jacket around her shoulders, handing her the keys to the house. "The boys should be asleep, meaning they're in hibernation mode, so don't worry about noise," She gets out of the truck with his help and walks to the door, holding his coat closer. I open my door and the cold stings my eyes though it's not as bad as before, I shut the door as Josh does. He walks to the back and takes out my moms suitcases, placing them gently on their wheels. I climb up and grab my duffle bag, hopping down and having the weight push against my body, Josh catches me before I fall forward and smiles. I nod my thanks and get my other suitcase. Mom is just unlocking the door when Josh and I walk up, she's about to open it when someone else does for her.

Standing there is a boy I've seen before but didn't catch by name, he was tall and lean with his skin tanned and his hair dark and shaggy, he looked like a transfer student from Spain. His grey green eyes caught Josh's and he furrowed his brow.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Ezekiel, go wake up your brother, I think we need to talk," Josh sighs, I feel my eyes widen, oh my god, the Quarterback of our school and super popular Dauntless boy Zeke, is my half brother.


	8. Brothers

**I was working on the next chapter and found a few errors in the dialog for Brothers so this post is just fixing them. Sorry. **

Brothers

Josh's house is close to a mansion. Currently my mom and I are sitting in the family room on the large blue grey 'L' shaped couch. My mom holds a mug of hot coffee in her hands while I struggle not to nervously pick at my nails. Zeke thankfully put a grey nike hoodie on, and his brother Uriah sits next to him. Eyeing me like I have two heads. Uriah sits at the table from school and knows a little about me, Zeke is easier to take on because of his naivety towards me. Josh is the one standing, holding a very creamed mug of coffee. "Boys, meet your sister, Tris," I feel my eyes widen and I want to laugh at him but my jaw drops instead, he just jumped the gun. Zekes eyes scan my body and I try my hardest not to squirm, Uriah, thankfully saved me, "She's not Hana's daughter," He states,

"No, she's not, she's Natalies and my daughter," Josh says, Zeke only looks at Natalie. She has remained placid. "So what are they doing here?"

"Tris's…" He begins to think over how to put it, "You can tell them, I don't care," I tell him. Still he presses his lips together, struggling with how much information to give his two sons. Wetting my lips I take a breath, "Zeke," His eyes are calmer, like he wrapping his head around it, "Uriah," His soft chocolate eyes were already on me, and he's worried. "I know this might be a lot to take in at 5 in the morning, but I am your half sister. I'm here because I wasn't supposed to know this, I found out, destroying any plans that my mother had to get out of the prison we were in. The man we lived with, tried to keep us, so out of fear and trust, we have talked with your father and he has allowed us to stay here." I finish and look down at my hands before looking up at the two boys. Zeke looks angry and Uriah looks concerned. I feel my head shake, "I understand if you don't want me here, you don't know me, and if you do know what I did with Four, then you might think I'm a loose cannon, that's fine. I can go somewhere else, but at least let my mother stay,"

"Dad," Zeke asks, "Why haven't you told us this? That Beatrice Prior was our sister?"

"I was worried you would seek to tell her, it would have ruined everything Natalie planned, but now it doesn't matter, because Tris did it for you," I bite my lip and look down in shame, I feel my mom move, she lifts the mug to her lips and sips at the cooled coffee. Her expression pained and she sets the cup down. "Boys," She says softly, "I wanted to divorce Andrew, but I wasn't in the position to do that. When Caleb died, things got difficult and I had to protect my daughter, so I had planned to leave him when she turned 18. Afraid that he would hurt her if I left, afraid of the custody battle and her living with him." My eyes flicker along her body and notice she's trying not to fumble with her fingers, I see the gears working in her mind, how hard and stressful this all is on her.

Zeke catches my attention when he gets up, he walks over and gets on his knees in front of her. From her lap her blue eyes find his green ones and he puts his arms around her. Just like that she starts to cry. Her arms go around his neck and her face in his shoulder, her small body racked with sobs. "It's alright now miss Prior, you're safe here with us," Is all he says. It's enough for now.

About two hours later, the sun is gentle through the windows and my mother is asleep in Josh's bed. I'm still downstairs, going through my things and seeing what I managed to bring. I pretend not to hear the argument going on in the other room, knowing very well that it might be about me. Caleb said that eavesdropping was always a bad idea because you never hear what you want to. I couldn't help myself though, and Zeke's angered voice was easily distinguishable. "What the hell do you think you're doing dad? Bringing her here? You didn't even ask! How the hell am I supposed to be okay with this?"

"I didn't really have time to ask you Zeke,"Josh's voice is harsh,

"You could have called! I was up, because you go to that stupid fucking club, and now you bring Natalie Prior and her daughter back?" Josh is silent for a moment,

"I don't expect you to embrace her or her mother, if you really don't want this then they are staying here for a week and then going somewhere else? Does that sound fine? Her mother is panicked and isn't in the state to really fend against a man who tried to put a knife through her skull, Tris was the one to knock him out, not me." Zeke, for a long time, says nothing.

"Andrew, tried to kill them?" I heard Uriah's quiet voice ask the question that ran through their heads. Josh's silence seemed to answer the question. Zeke got on top of it right away. "You know your 'daughter' is running around hitting and kissing boys. She's not right in the head, you should have left her there, no way is she staying here. Plus we haven't let another woman stay in this house since Hana. What's next dad, you're going to sleep with Natalie Prior?"

"Ezekiel!" Josh and Uriah yell, acid rubs at the back of my eyes. I bite my lip and get to my feet, turning towards the door until I hear Josh's voice become soft but stern, "Boy, I have never hit you and I never will, but right now, my pa would have beat the voice out of me if I was ever as selfish as you are being right now," Then doors slam, and I hear the ruffle of sheets, then the pounding of feet going up the stairs. My hand is on the doorknob when I hear the rub of fabric against the floor. My moms voice fills my ears and I notice once again how broken she must feel. "Beatrice, where are you going?" It's enough to get me to turn around, my mother stands in the stretch between the kitchen and the living room, a white blanket draped around her dropped shoulders, her hair falling straight down her back. "I'm sorry, did they wake you?"

"I wasn't really sleeping," She says quietly, her eyes fall on the couch, "Would you come and sit with me?" A request, she didn't ask, pity prickles at my skin and I don't want to, but she needs me. So I comply. "Beatrice," She says before she stops to over think what she was going to say. I wet my lips and say something cruel, "Maybe, you should get some rest before we talk," She pauses, her posture taught like a puppet on strings. Then she dips her head once, "Then I will see you tomorrow afternoon,"

"This afternoon?" I ask, knowing what she meant, a smile pulls at her lips as she stands. Walking up the stairs. When she's gone and I hear her door shut I reach down into my duffel bag, unzipping a side pocket and pulling out my phone. Its black with an electric blue triangle sitting at the back bottom right corner, the inside of the shape black. I turn the device on and see that it is almost 8 in the morning. I would be at school by now. I unlock it with the swipe of my finger and go to my contacts, looking to erase Andrews number and block it. I see Christinas name and smile a little, I finish the task at hand quickly and go to my home screen, seeing the number of texts there surprises me. 5.

Christina: Trissssyyyyyy, omg hi! ur probly super mad at me 4 going on ur phone nd that i gave ur # 2 every1 BUT we luvv uuuu txt meeeeee

Will: Christina made me put my number in here and text you, don't get mad at me.

(866)410-4261: It's Four, I don't know how Christina texts like that, yes I watched because I was the one who found your phone.

(866)410-4261: Tris, I'd really like to talk to you soon, about, today. About what we did and if you're okay.

Christina: Trissy! omg! Every1s talking bout u! 4 nd u sittin in a tree

Christina: Tris, for all seriousness, what the fuck? Why aren't you talking to me?

I smile and add Fours number into my contacts, I text Christina and ask her a few questions because I don't know if I can talk to her without her talking to the school.

_Christina, hey, I'm sorry for not texting you, I don't really use my phone and things came up._ She responds immediately.

What kind of stuff?

_Family stuff._

Do you want to talk about it?

_Will you tell?_

No, you can trust me, would you rather meet in person?

_Yes, but I'm not going to be at school for a little while._

That's ok, where are you? At your house? I can go there and skip school.

_No!_

Tris are you ok? Where are you?

_I don't know the address. I'll call you later._

Tris what's going on!? Do I need to call someone?

_I'll meet you tomorrow at a small coffee shop called Amnition, I'll be sitting away from the windows, meet you at 3 pm._

Ok, see you soon Tris.

I turn off my phone and put it back in my duffel bag, pulling out little items that are valuable to me. It's when I'm going through the pictures with the box to my right that I feel someone sit next to me. I pause for a moment, then look up, seeing Uriah there, he's looking at the pictures over my shoulder, I feel a smile tug at my lips and lean over to show him. "There was this hill with a tree on top of it that Caleb and I always went to," Pointing to it, the sky so blue, the grass vibrant and my yellow dress gold against the sun, Caleb in jeans and tank top. It was in June, when we took this. I move to the next picture and smile, "Of course, Caleb had a crush on our neighbor," I point to the blonde girl in a white dress next to me, we're both wearing sunhats, "Her name is Susan, and thats her twin brother Robert," I point to the boy sitting in the grass next to us. Uriah smiles, taking the picture in his hands. His smile growing wider and his eyes closing slowly before he shakes his head and looks at me. "Tris, you'll have good memories here. Trust me," I nod as he hands the picture back, "Uriah?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," I say, earning a smile,

"You're my sister Tris, and I'll do my best to make you feel like this is home," Tears fall without warning and his arms are around me in seconds. I don't sob, just let the tears fall. My body relaxing, a while later I pull away from him. Knowing that my eyes nose and cheeks are probably red and puffy, Uriah chuckles and I look at him, seeing the giant wet spot on his chest. I laugh and apologize, he waves me off and gets up, going to change his shirt. My eyes follow him and he passes Zeke in the hallway. He stares at me intently and that uncomfortable feeling forms again, I guess it's because I know how he feels about us staying here now. His face is blank, like he's struggling and succeeding in keeping his emotions from me. That's fine, if he wants to pretend thats okay, if it's easier, sure.

His body tenses and he walks over to me, sitting down on the coffee table in front of me. He laces his fingers and looks at me, "Zeke-" I'm about to apologize,

"Tris, it's alright that you stay here, and even if you are my sister it's going to take a while for me to get used to you. I'm not like my brother... I've been hurt too much to trust so quickly, but you seem like a good enough person and I look forward to getting to know you. I'm sorry that all of this is happening to you," He says to me, I shake my head. Completely taken aback, almost shocked because I'm sure it was his voice protesting against his father.

"I'm sorry for turning your world upside down, I'm intruding on your life, it only makes sense that you don't trust me," I mumble.

"I'm not going to pretend that I like you here, because I don't, but I will try help you if you need it,"

"Whats the point in us staying here for only a week? We don't have any money, let alone an ideal place to stay," I blurt, anger twitching at my fingers in memory of his words. Zeke looks up at me, his lush green eyes frosted over. "Because, Tris, it will only take a week for you to stand out," There is a moment of silence before he asks me, "Did anyone show you your room yet?" I shake my head,

"I wasn't aware I had a room of my own," He smiles, his lips pulling to the left more than right, he takes my hand and helps me up. Leading me up the stairs. "If my judgement on you is correct then you should love this place," I nod and he opens a door. The light from the other side is blinding but beautiful and white. The room is huge and empty with the exception of a bed against the right wall. Once you walk in, a wall of windows is in front of you to greet you. Tan and dark oak brown drapes are pulled back. Facing the sunrise, to the left is a closet with mirrors as doors. To the immediate left, there is another door that leads to a bathroom with a glass wall shower in the corner, a mirror takes up the wall above the counter. The room stone made of black quartz with white streaks of lightning, and the wall tiles looking like tiger eye stone. Looking to be tanned granite. I don't even know what to say, so I turn around to look at Zeke and smile. "You like it?" He asks,

"I love it," He smiles. Soon we have my things upstairs in my room and he helps me unpack, while I'm putting away clothes I ask him, "What do I call your dad? Mr Pedrad?" Zeke pauses before saying, "No. Just call him Josh, like I'll be calling your mom Natalie,"

"What happened to your mom, Hana?" I blurt, he huffs a little,

"When I was born an accident she had a hard time deciding to keep me or not, my dad talked her into keeping me. She tried to be a parent for the two years that it was just me, but when she was pregnant with Uriah she started acting weird. She decided the day he was born that she wasn't cut out to be a mom, so she left as soon as she was capable of doing so. Leaving my dad with two boys and no help at all. Though it was difficult for him at first, I started to get the hang of watching out for my baby brother and reminding my dad of important events. Despite things being rough, I like to think we turned out great," I see that's my cue to laugh so I smile and let out a little giggle, Zeke smiles lightly.

Half an hour later, Josh, Uriah, Zeke and I are all downstairs, in the kitchen and sitting at the island. The counters made of the same black quartz, the boys are making breakfast and Josh sits next to me, a small smile on his face. Uriah, who makes the pancakes, asks "Dad, do we really have to go to school today?"

"Yes, I've got to show Tris the requirements of living here, and I've got to talk to her about a few things," Josh explains,

"After school," Zeke begins, "Today, I've got practice for an hour, but Four asked if he could hang here," The question not being asked directly, Josh thinks for a moment, "Yeah, as long as it's only him and not your girlfriend," Zeke bristles,

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"Hey now, don't get all defensive!" Uriah laughs,

"Is breakfast ready yet?" Josh complains,

"Do you wanna get in here and do it yourself old man?" Zeke asks,

"Not unless you want to get the fire extinguisher," My lips curl into a smile, and a few minutes later Zeke turns off the stove and Josh is on his feet, "Foood?" He drags out, Zeke frowns and says, "Nope, not after what you said about Shauna," Josh pouts,

"I let you both skip two classes this morning, food, is needed," I feel the air tense and I struggle to breathe, they've already argued today, they don't need to again. Thinking the same thing, Uriah hums and hands a plate full of eggs bacon pancakes and fruit to Josh. No words are said and I assumed that they laughed because of it. Soon we're all eating, and a plate has been set aside for my mother. Nothing remotely interesting happens. So I take the time to watch them, not having much of an appetite. The air smells like cinnamon and frosting, the room is white and tan, the decorations all earthly colors like dark browns and the occasional blue or green. It's beautiful in here, the ceilings are high, everything is clean and it breathes comfort. I look at the table and smile, this place is perfect for mom. Zeke, pauses and looks at me, he sits across from me, next to Uriah who is across from Josh. "You okay Tris?"

"Yeah," I say, "Just thinking," Zeke allows a small smile before going back to eating, he's left handed, and I don't know how I've never noticed that before. However, my observations are cut short as the boys leave for school, taking another car from the garage. I recognised it to be a 70's Ford Mustang, one of my favorite cars. Josh and I sit on the porch out front and watch them drive down the road. Giving view from atop a hill, the valley of the city and its buildings still misted with a grey white, the black and dark greys of skyscrapers reaching out of the mist to the blue sky of 10 a.m. "Tris," Josh asks,

"Yes?" I respond, not looking at him,

"I don't want you relying on your fight or flight instincts," I nod slightly, "So, living in a house of boys who know very well how to protect themselves, has it's perks. But as of tomorrow, I want you to attend self defense classes that I will enrol you in. I don't trust Andrew that this is over, I grew up with him, and I know enough to say that he won't stop until all of this is over. I want you to be prepared if you're alone." I breathe in, trusting his judgment on his former friend. "Do you understand this Tris?"

"Yes," I confirm with a nod,

"Are you ready for all this?" I pause for a second, aware of his cloud grey eyes on me. I straighten and square my shoulders, looking at him, locking our eyes forming a powerful electrical storm of ice and lightning. The kind that makes your power go out for days, the kind that kills. I answer, my voice carrying a promise I intended to keep.

"Yes."


	9. Learning

**Aha! Long chapters! I'm so sorry I fell of the face of the Earth, I love you all, just, everything, is happening and not in a good way. But, whatever, ahem. I now present to you chapter 10 of Lights. If any of you are still reading this I wanted to tell you all that I will be back on my game. But, thank you so much for your patience. **

Learning

The feeling of dread is something close to panic, but much, much worse. My mother had sat down and struggled to talk to me, at 6 in the morning the next day. I had done my best to understand the meaning behind words like, "new home," and "safe," when if fact, Josh could kick us out at any moment if his boys disliked us. It was also difficult because under a different roof, she wouldn't address me so directly, and neither of us is used to the conversation. Despite her desperate and dreaded demeanor I told her I was going to take self defense. She seemed to marvel at that, and it gave her some peace.

Later on in the day, the time caught my eyes, and I realized that school got out in ten minutes. Four would be here later, and I wanted to avoid him, so I asked Josh if I could borrow his truck, his response was, "Why?" Along with a raised eyebrow,

"I have a friend," His expression told me to continue, "I need to talk to someone other than the people who live here, I promised to meet her today,"

"Do you have a licence?" I bit my lip, no, I didn't have one. Josh chuckled and lead me outside, grabbing his keys. "I'll drive you, and I'll pick you up two hours later," I nodded, that would be enough time, "Thanks," I say. While driving he gave me a pointed look, "Where to?"

"A coffee shop called Amnition," He nods,

"You should be sixteen right?"

"In January I'll be seventeen," A smile creeps onto his face,

"Then we should work on getting a permit and license for you," Everything is changing, for the good or the bad I don't know. I admit I'm excited to drive on my own, I'm excited to learn self defense, I think here would be the best place to start over. With a harsh winter biting at our fingertips Christmas was around the corner, and just like that we'd be starting a new year.

Josh pulls up to the curb and I hop out, thanking him again. He nods at me before pulling away and driving off, I check the time on my phone as I walk in and see that she should be here soon. So I find a spot a bit away from the windows and in the back. A young man walks up to me, asking if I'd like anything, "I'll have a mug of hot tea please,"

"Earl grey?"

"Yes, please," He nods and walks away, when Christina walks in, I expect her to be furious and deeply upset because of my actions. But when I see her, she's the image of calm and collected. She orders something and stands against the counter, not seeing me. I stand slowly and walk over to her, she sees me finally and walks towards me. She does something I don't expect and wraps her arms around me. "Christina?"

"You scared us all Tris," She hugs me tighter. I put my arms around her, holding her tight against me. Never did I expect her to think of me as a close friend, I didn't know she cared. I pull away and look at her in her eyes, the hazel brown giving me a deep comfort. I sigh and say, "I'm sure you've got a lot of questions," She nods and I lead her to the table after she gets her drink. She sits across from me and suddenly I notice her outfit, a cropped black sweater and beanie, and blue skinny jeans with ugg boots. She is also wearing a tone of bronzed makeup, she is beautiful, and suddenly I feel that my sweatpants and hoodie look bumish. "You kinda disappeared this weekend, you had our numbers," She says, my tea is placed down on the table, I nod my thanks.

"Things came up,"

"Like what?" She leans forward,

"Well, I kissed Four on friday after breaking down about my brother,"

"Thats easy to explain to him," She says, her eyes want to know more though,

"You can ask any questions, I have answers," She purses her lips,

"Where were you? This weekend? Everyone was asking about you,"

"I found out things I wasn't supposed to,"

"Like what?" I take a deep breath,

"Well," I wet my lips, "I am not my fathers daughter," She stares at me a moment,

"What?"

"Andrew Prior is not my birth father, and beats my mother, and tried to kill me a little more than 24 hours ago," It's easy to tell her. The stress lifting from my heavy shoulders. I expect her to take pity on me and ask if I'm okay but instead she asks, "How did you find out?"

"Through my dream from my dead brother," Her eyes show confusion, "Caleb was my half brother, but he showed me what would have happened if I died instead, left clues, let me follow them. I woke up and found the clues he showed me in the dream," She nods, a crease between her brows. "It's perplexing, but in a way it makes sense. Continue,"

"My mom was awake because the dream ended badly, I confronted her about it, and she explained her plan to leave Andrew when I turned 18. She was afraid that any sooner, he would hurt me too," I pause not knowing how to go about this.

"So what did you do?"

"I wanted to meet my real dad, and she wanted to see him, he was her first love and I think she's still in love with him. I think when she divorced Andrew she was going to him," Christina nodded, sipping her coffee. "We met him, and now we're living with him, for the time being,"

"But nothing happened in between?" I sighed lightly,

"We went back to get our things, towing the car with his truck and getting rid of the tracker. We only needed clothes and a few other things," Christina nodded, "We tried to be quiet, but when we heard my mom scream we were up the stairs in a second. Andrew had a knife in his hand and was actually going to kill her,"

"What happened?" She asked, wide eyed,

"I stopped him,"

"How?"

"I knocked him out, and we ran," She's silent for a few minutes, taking all of this in and subconsciously eating the whipped cream on her coffee with her straw. "Is it just your mom, you and your dad?"

"No, he has two sons,"

"Half brothers? Do I know them?" I nod, "What are their names?"

"The eldest hates me enough, I don't want to ruin his image at school," She's silent again, but then she asks, "What happened to Caleb?"

"He died," I say, "In a car crash, because of me,"

"How? Why do you say that?"

"I was at a party, it was a week or so after Halloween, and I got so drunk that I couldn't realize how Caleb was trying to help me. He was driving past me because I was walking away from the block. He wanted to pick me up, and instead I chose to yell at him because he was always my big brother, looking out for me," I paused, taking a few deep breaths because that level of nostalgia can eat away at you. Christinas hand finds mine, and she gives it a light squeeze, "Caleb was almost three years older than me, so he wasn't in high school anymore, he was on his way to move out to go to Yale, 'a waste of a promising life'," I quote Andrew, "His car was t-boned by a truck going way too fast, the driver was drunk and Caleb was killed on impact right in front of me, because I refused to let him take me home, it's my fault he was there in the first place. If I hadn't been rebellious," I whisper the last part, Christina squeezes my hand and stands up. Walking over to me, she kneels and hugs me again, whispering, "It wasn't your fault Tris," And I struggle not to cry. I put my arms around her neck and press my face into her beanie, we sit there for longer than I thought we would.

It's over sooner rather than later thankfully, and soon she's talking to me and explaining what events I missed this past weekend. The latest gossip about our team and sports and all the popular girls to whose names I've never heard of until now. Christina was fun, a nice change from my hectic life. She pauses, going to drink more of her coffee, but finds it empty I do the same and sip my tea and see it's now empty, I wave over the young man that I ordered from. "Yes?" He asks,

"Could I get a hot chocolate, whipped cream on top with a little bit of nutmeg?" He smiles and writes it down, "Anything else?" He grins and raises an eyebrow at me,

"What cookies do you have?" I ask feeling in a better mood,

"Well, normal chocolate chip, we have ginger snaps, white chocolate peppermint, and then my favorite, chocolate peanut butter fudge," I smile,

"I think I'll try your favorite," He grins wider if thats possible,

"Anything for you miss?" He asks Christina,

"Salted caramel cake pop please," He nods once and leaves us saying, "Be right back," We both sit in silence for a moment until she taps my hand, I look at her smirking face, as if she knows something I don't. "What?"

"I didn't think that Abnegation flirted with boys," I feel my face heat up,

"I wasn't flirting with him," I declare quickly,

"Well he was certainly flirting with you," I look down and bite my lip before stating, "Four was my first kiss," And then she squeals, I laugh and look at her as she bounces in her seat. "Oh my God Tris are you serious?!" She whisper shouts, I nod, "This is perfect," I press my lips together and narrow my eyes at her, furrowing my brow, "How is this perfect?"

"You were Four's first kiss!" I feel my jaw drop, is she serious?

"No way," I say, she nods vigorously, "I stole Four's first kiss?" She grins at me. Then her eyes flicker over to the serving boy who is still behind the counter, I follow her gaze as she says, "You're going after two smoking hot boys, I honestly didn't think you had it in you," The other person she's talking about has jet black hair and amber eyes that are soft looking. His face is well chiseled and his form slim but muscular, I suppose he is good looking, but I don't need a love interest right now, and as much as I hate to say, I'm starting to think that blindly kissing Four was a mistake. Christina smiles at me and says, "Hey, are you doing anything?"

"What?" Her abruptness shocks me,

"I mean, you look like you could use a pick me up. And frankly after what you just told me, I could use one. So, do you want to join me?" I bite my lip and check my phone, we've been here about an hour, I have about one more to spare, but I don't think I should be going outside. Then I see her pouting face and I gave in, "Okay, fine, just let me pay for the food," And thus I pull out some cash just as the server comes back and I make it a point to read his name tag. Tom. Then I notice the drink is already in a to-go cup and the sweets are in a bag. I give him a look, "I saw your conversation drawing to a close," I nod and pay him,

"Thank you then, Tom," He grins and walks off to the bar as Christina and I rise, when we walk out she whispers into my ear, "Don't you have a wallet?"

"No. and I don't want to use my brothers either,"

"Well now we definitely have to go shopping,"

"Shopping?"

"Tris, I've been dying for some girl time with you, please? It's close enough to walk,"

"Yeah, okay," I sigh. As promised we arrive in no time, Jewelry, Fashion, and Sports stores line up. She leads me into fashion and towards the leather department, "I don't take you for a girly girl, so I won't force you to take a purse, because I don't even use them. So if I were you I'd pick a leather wallet, they last forever," Then she pulls something out of her back pocket, "I've had this one for three years now," It's a worn fold of black leather with a chain connecting it to her pants. I nod, and pick a tanned almost maroon leather wallet, satin lining the inside. We head towards the cashier, but she stops and looks at the sports section of clothing. Then she speaks, "If Andrew does find you, what are you going to do about it? I mean, no offence, but you're a small girl Tris, are you doing defence lessons or something?"

"Yeah, my dad wanted me to, I agreed seeing as he has a point, along with you," I smile, she grins,

"Then I suppose I'll have to go shopping with you more often, I play in the mixed baseball team, pitcher and center-right, I come here a lot," I nod and laugh a little, paying for the wallet and a silver chain at the counter, putting in the cash and change and hooking them together. Putting the wallet in my back pocket. She leads me out of the store and towards the sports store, I glance at her, "Christina, I don't have enough-"

"Shush, think of it as an un-birthday present, besides, it's one outfit and some tape. If you're so uptight about it, you can pay me back on Tuesday," I nod and let her pull me around. Looking at pants and shorts, and surprisingly socks, then towards the shoes at which she went on a rant about. Apparently her older sister played basketball, and they just had this whole experience with shoes. And then we walk to the baseball section and she picks up a bat, swinging it in slow motion a few times before looking at me. "You should join Tris," I stare at her,

"Baseball?" She smiles,

"Well. Yeah, I'm sure everyone would love to have you on the team," I pause and think, and then my eyes catch a grey and black sports bra and black shorts. "Christina?"

"Yeah?" Her eyes trained on some baseball gear.

"You still want to get me some clothes?" Then quick as a whip she looks at me, her curls falling out of her beanie, "Did you find something you liked?" I walk toward the set and show her. For a moment she furrows her brow, but then leads me to the cashier. However, knowing her, I know she's gonna say something. And she does, "So, what are you gonna do about Four?"

"What do you mean?" I grab the bag and follow her out.

"This whole thing, are you two together?" I laugh,

"Actually he's friends with my half brothers, so he's going to be at the house, I was planning on avoiding him," Christina stops and gives me a look.

"What?" I ask,

"Don't what me, what yourself, geez Tris. Do you really not like the guy?"

"Oh he's fine, just, I don't really know what to do right now,"

"You don't know what to do about Four?"

"Yeah," I say numbly.

"Tris, it's not that hard. You're making it sound like the end of the world, just talk to him and tell him what's going on. It won't help either of you if you keep running from this," I purse my lips and hold open the door for her, Christina is insanely empathetic. She nods as thanks and leads the way back to the coffee shop. after a moment of silence I attempt to explain things to her, "Christina, even if I wanted to be with Four, I wouldn't exactly be relationship material, and I'm saying that because I don't expect to be stable for some time. Whats the point in dragging him into all this, stuff, if he's going to get hurt in the end?" Christina snorts at me,

"Tris, have you seen the man? He's built off of testosterone, if you're afraid of injuring his ego or libido, he's got a whole heap of masculinity to make up for it, believe me," I blush at her brashness, and notice we have arrived at the shop. There is a small wooden bench and I expect Josh to be here soon, so I walk over and gingerly sit down. I don't really have anything to say to her, to support my side of the argument, I already feel like I've lost and she's proposing I jump off the diving board with a flip.

I wet my lips and pull out the cookie bag and take out the cookie I got, the smell of fresh made chocolate and honey peanut butter wafting up to my senses and triggering my sweet tooth. Christina sighs and plops down next to me, as if her legs gave out beneath her, I check the time and see we have about ten minutes. She relaxes into the bench and I break the soft cookie in half, handing her a piece and gently nomming on my own. She offers a small smile as her stomach mewls and growls gratefully, we both share a small laugh. A minute into silence I feel her eyes on me, she wants an answer, I pop in a handmade peanut butter cup and let it melt in my mouth, thinking of what to say. "My situation doesn't really leave room for a relationship Christina, and honestly?" I lick the chocolate from my lips, "I'm not sure I'm ready for one yet," And then, there's silence. Wind dances along the road, sweeping up the dried leaves that have already fallen, the trees around us looking bare. The cars in the distance offering a soft whisper of words whenever the sound echoes off buildings, or whenever there is a major break, and the tires skid painfully across the asphalt. The outside world growing louder to make up for our lack of words. I pop the rest of the cookie into my mouth, savoring the almost too sweet taste of fudge and chocolate peanut butter. "What are you going to say?" She asks me,

"I'm going to apologize and tell him I'm not ready."

"Okay," She says, I crumple the bag gently and get up to throw it away. Josh's black truck is pulling up when I am walking back. Christinas body is tense and she looks like she's guarding the shopping bags with her life, I smile and say, "This is me," She looks up at me with her pretty eyes and offers a smile. I grab the things she got me and give her a small hug, "Keep in touch, Tris?"

"Yeah," I say as I pull away, turning and opening the door. Seeing Josh's smile makes me smile, but I thank Christina before I close the door. He pulls away from the curb and heads home. There's a sort of distilled silence that seems to linger between us. That almost awkward silence where you're thinking of what to say, but can't find anything. I suppose it's bound to happen, I don't expect to have a good relationship with a man I just met who's my father within a day. He must have felt the same way because he says, "You went shopping?" I look at the bags at my feet. "She insisted," I say with a smile, he chuckles at me. Causing me to turn and look at him, eyebrows raised. "It's good to know you have at least one girlfriend, I could tell that you have trouble fitting in." I don't know if I should be insulted or just taking that in, I feel my nose crinkle, and suddenly I feel embarrassed that my displacement is that obvious. I bite my lip and look out the window. I swear I can almost hear him grinning, we pull up to a red light and the air grows uncomfortable. I shift in my seat a bit, "Tris?"

"Yes?"

"How much did you tell her?" My mind says I should bristle, become alert because he seems to know my actions before I perform them. But my body seems to love the sinking feeling of ease and the feel of cold leather against my back, the more I struggle to think about it, the easier it is to see that the question was innocent, and he meant no harm by asking it. "I told her everything," I say when the light turns green, "Everything except your names,"

"Are you sure that you didn't want to tell her anything else, spend more time with her?"

"I have her number on my phone," Then Josh goes quiet,

"What is it?" I ask, noticing,

"I'm just worried," He says,

"About what? Her telling people? She won't," I say, lightly, sure of myself and her.

"No, I trust your friend, girls like her know how to keep secrets," I'm about to ask what he means by that but he continues, "It's your phone, some phones have tracking signals in case the owner loses it, but i'm worried that Andrew could find you and your mother by using that signal. I just think that you and your mother should fall off the grid for a while, maybe until the next year, you know, take some time to regain your bearings," Some part of me is deeply insulted that he would seek to hide my mother and me as if we were fragile. But a much more logical, less emotional part of me agrees with him, that if we want to avoid being found we should refrain from doing anything that could put us in the books. So I say, "Okay."

All of this still seeming surreal, my brother dieing not a month ago and now Andrew trying to kill my mother and I, while we're still locked in mourning, I'm amazed that I haven't broken down yet. Maybe I'm just resilient to that sort of thing until the end, or until I finally have someone to hold me when I do.

Soon we were pulling into Josh's driveway, and cutting the engine, I gra my things and hop out of the truck, eager to take a shower and see my mother. Also anticipating some time with Josh, as I would like to learn how he knows how to do all of this, and hopefully learn to do so myself. Then perhaps I could handle my situation with Four. I rush to open the door and walk inside, but then my world comes crashing down when I see Four sitting at the island with a pen in hand. His hair disheveled as he runs another hand through it, he hasn't moved, so I'm assuming he didn't hear me walk in, I'm about to let out a quiet breath of relief until Josh calls my name.

Four looks up and his navy eyes lock with the fog that would hide his own. I feel my breath catch when he stands, a look of confusion spreading along his face. Josh is by my side a second later, and then his body tenses up next to me, remembering his sons wishes. But then, brilliantly, before anyone could move, words that I couldn't have spoken better myself fell from Josh's mouth, "Oh, Shit."


	10. Exposed

**I've got the twitchy fingers, and a thirteen year old that demands my attention. However, I missed you all greatly, and have been feeling really sucky for not posting. At all. Now I'm here to say that I'll be working hard to update regularly and try not to get the finger twitch disease. All in all, if those who have read this from the very beginning still find a passion in this story, thank you so much for your patients. And to any newcomers, welcome. **

Exposed

Suddenly the phrase 'deer in headlights' becomes oddly familiar to me, because no matter how hard I try to move, my feet don't follow my command, and I can't bring myself to tear my eyes away from him. But he has no problem. His eyes widen when they land on the bag in my hands, "Tris," He breathes, and the way he says it sends shivers down my spine. "Four," I respond, my hands clench beside me and I feel like running. Christinas words are replaying in my mind, how I should explain to him everything, but I don't know him, not enough. Then again I didn't know Christina and still I trusted her. So why is Four any different? "Four I-"

"Dad?" A voice I wish I didn't hear interrupts me, "Dad, why is the door wide open?" And then Zeke is in the house, staring at the three of us with wide eyes. My breath catches in my throat when they land on me. Aggression and anger fills his eyes and suddenly my chest feels pressed on. Four makes a move towards me, but Zeke beats him to it, shoving past his dad and grabbing the bag from my hands. He grins, maliciously, and says, "Hey, nice going babe, you got the outfit," Four tenses and his shoulders square, and I don't understand what Zeke meant until he up his arm around my shoulders and whispered in my ear, rather loudly, "Some fun for tonight yeah?" I bite my lip to keep from screaming at him, feeling gross with myself that he would even imply that. His grip on my shoulder keeps me from running, and I resist the urge to hit him.

Then he presses his lips to my temple and I start to feel sick, Four clenches his jaw, his beautiful blue eyes darkening as he glares at me. "Four, you know Tris, right?" Zeke asks,

"Yeah," He answers thickly,

"Four-" I try, but Zeke cuts me off,

"Babe, why don't you take a shower? And get ready?" My body hisses and growls at him, and I pull away, taking my wallet and clothes from him. I pass Four with my head down, feeling sick and not brave enough to look him in the eye. "I didn't know you were Zeke's girlfriend Tris,"

I bite my lip and head upstairs, Zeke doesn't want people to know I'm his half sister, and he stopped me from telling Four. At the top of the stairs I turn and look at Four, as he is the only one that can see me, I shake my head and turn to my room.

I close my door and lean against it struggling to calm down my heart rate, as it is making it harder to breathe. I sigh when I calm down and walk towards the shower, seeing a white towel was already set up for me, my mom must have come in here. I glance in the mirror and see my lip has been bit so hard there's blood. I take out my hair and let it fall and get the shower ready, relieved to finally clean myself.

When I'm done washing the stress from my skin I step out and wrap my towel around me. My skin looking much tanner compared to the fluffed white of the cloth. I can't stop my mind from racing to Zeke and how he reacted to the scene in front of him, and while I feel anger towards his sick notions and offers towards the sports clothes in my bag and to me. I understand better than others that he saved us all from some very stressful talks, but now I'm dreading the minute I have to go downstairs and possibly face the boy I kissed, who I happen to be developing a crush for. But then I have to stop and question myself as to how I could grow fond of Four when I've known him for only a few days.

With a frustrating huff I wipe the steam from the glass and the first thing I see are my eyes. Josh's eyes, they're like the fog that you see rolling in from the ocean every morning because the sun is so intense. Yet that light grey color is what seeps in from the outer reaches of my iris. The rest is like ripped and tampered sheets of titanium, the fractals and flecks of blue reflect every time my eyes move, making the darker grey around my pupil look more of a blue grey than a cut of metal. A peculiar set of eyes that has tied me to my birth father since the day I was set to be created, now I suppose I have my answer as to 'why me?', as opposed to 'why not?'. No, I didn't ask for this when I took my first breath of air in the hospital, I demanded it, I demanded a different life than the one that my mother and father chose for me.

Sighing I tare my gaze from my face in the mirror, not out of habit, but because I don't want to see the confused look on my face. I don't want to see the pain and the uncertainty in my eyes of where to go or what to do next. So instead I make my way out into my new beautiful room, and I put on the clothing I hid away for too long. It is at my own will that I walk down the carpeted stairs wearing black skinny jeans and a dark grey v-neck. And I suppose due to my change in demeanor, Josh was the one to meet my eyes first. He stood up from his place at the island and made his way over to me, stopping me from getting any closer to the boys that sat on the couch. "Tris," He mumbles so that only I can hear, "Are you okay? Are you sure you want to be down here?" My gears temper and switch in my head as I prepare myself for Zeke and Four's reaction. I simply nod to Josh and walk past him.

My socked feet not making any sound against the dark hard wood floors as I sweep my way to them. Without a word I walk in front of the two boys, getting their attention. Zeke looks shocked, but over all still angry with my presence. And much to my dismay Four looks just as upset. Zeke opens his mouth, "Baby why don't you wait for me upstairs?" My skin bristles with heat, and it's either from embarrassment or from anger. My face doesn't change though, and instead of my voice wavering, it sounds stern, like a threat, "Ezekiel," He stiffens, "Why don't you listen to what I have to say before you and I take it upstairs?"

"Tris," Josh says, I flash a smile that feels wrong on my face and look at Four. My eyes narrowing into a glare, "Four, we need to talk,"

"Yes we do," I pause, he doesn't, "We need to talk about you kissing me when you've already got a boyfriend, what the fuck? And what's this about ignoring me all weekend after doing that, you're a mess Tris,"

"Yes, I am," I hiss, "And no, I don't need to talk about kissing you when I already have a boyfriend, because I don't."

"What?"

"You're the first guy I've ever kissed, let alone looked at," I can't help but scoff,

"Tris, that hurts, you don't remember all those nights in my room when Uriah was out with-" Zeke tries,

"Kind of a messed up thing to say to your sister," I say, "Don't you think?" And then there it was, the look of hatred and the look of confused shock. I had just sealed Four's involvement with my life and now I had to trust him, regardless of what Zeke believed. For A split second my eyes caught Josh's face, and I was shocked at the emotion displayed on his face. He knew all of this would happen, and that things were about to get rough. Four looked away from me and towards his friend next to him, "Sister?" Asking as if he wasn't entirely sure he heard me right. Zeke's facade cracked, "Tris is…" He trailed off, just in time for Josh to speak, "She is my daughter," His words finite and light holding a heavy meaning that rubbed salt at the back of my eyes and made my heart beat harder against my chest.

Josh made a casual display of sitting next to me on the coffee table, and pulling me close to him in a hug. Feeling caught off guard I froze and bit my lip, watching Four's eyes, the emotions going through them. He looked uncomfortable but still envious of the situation, the blue getting darker then lighter as the sun hit his face and receded back behind the clouds. I clenched my hands into fists and kept myself from reaching for him.

Four looked between Zeke and I, taking in the similarities and differences, the only thing Zeke and I had in common was our lips. Uriah and I almost had nothing in common, he had bluer eyes than me. "Half sister anyway," Zeke mumbled,

"So what are you doing here?" Four asks me,

"The home I once lived in isn't open to me or my mother anymore," He looks like he understands, as in he can comprehend what this is. "You were kicked out?"

"Of a sorts, I left, and brought my mother with me, getting us both out of a bad situation."

"Why leave?"

"Andrew was explosive once he found out," Josh filled in for me,

"Andrew," Four repeated, his eyes locking on me, "Prior?"

"Yes, so we're staying here for a while, at least until we can figure something out," I say quietly, no longer keeping up my walls of caution. Four looks at me with eyes so intense I resist the urge to squirm. So instead of backing down I put a frown on my lips and risk losing myself in the depths of the gateways to his soul. Then suddenly my feet work on their own, and strangely, so do my hands. Four follows me without protest outside to the front porch, the sun setting as cold sets into our bones.

I don't let go of his hand because he is also confused, he has been dragged into this without his consent and despite Zeke's efforts, so has he. Because now we all have to be careful with what we do and say as we are in a delicate situation. I turn and look up at his face, for the first time noticing how tall he is compared to me, but his blue eyes seem so lost in thought that I feel compelled to pull him out of the ravine I shoved him into. "Four?" I whisper, noticing how bronze his skin looks with the orange tint of the setting sun.

When I don't get his attention I place a hand cautiously on his chest, saying his name a bit louder, "Four, hey," He blinks, looks down at me with a strange look on his face. One that I can't tie a name to, and then suddenly my body ignites as his lips press to mine. This is nothing like the first time I kissed him, it's deep and it's slow. Less experimental and more demanding, my footing slips and I stumble from him, eyes wide. The only thought in my mind is how much I want him to do it again. Slowly my eyes trail down his body from his lips to his chest to his clenched fists and then back up. He doesn't move, so I do, this time it's he who stumbles back against the door as my hands cup his face, our lips melding slow and hard against each other, and suddenly I'm curious as to how far I can push this.

My fingernails scrape the nape of his neck and move up into his black hair as his own arms grow tight around my waist. A huff of a laugh escapes me when his lips part, my tongue instinctively rubs against his lip, his soft lips, before it meets his own tongue half way. I'm so lost in the erotic feeling that I didn't notice his hand snaking up my spine to my hair, in which it's tangled itself. A hum escapes my lips and he smiles against me, ceasing his kiss and pressing his forehead to mine. A serene silence overtakes us, and it's nothing short of comfortable. A strange feeling to me in the midst of everything, but when his breath tickles my lips and face, I want nothing more than to stay in this position.

It becomes apparent that we can't, however, when he shifts in his spot and untangles his hand from my hair. "What was that for?" He asks me,

"I could ask you the same," I reply finding myself smiling, then his hand is on my cheek and his thumb pressing against my chin. The look on his face at my expression is adoration, and I find myself wanting to smile harder. Then a smirk slithers over his lips as he looks down at my blissed face, "That," He whispers, "Was for leaving me hanging in the parking lot,"

"And if I leave you hanging again?"

"Well," He quips, brushing his lips against my own, "I would have to do this again,"

"So what's stopping you from doing it when you want?" Then he smiles at me, and for some reason, I decide that his lips curl perfectly at the corners, enough for his eyes to crinkle slightly. Then he leans in slightly, brushing his nose against mine and his lips touching mine gently. But instead of letting him pull me away from the world and get lost in him, in his firewood spice scent, in the feel of his hands on me, I step back from him. Offering a small smile and pulling him away from the door, "I'll see you soon," I say to him, opening the house door and closing it behind me, the smirk on his lips the last thing I see.

Zeke is no longer downstairs in the living room, and instead my mother sits with a blanket around her shoulders and a mug in her hand. Josh is sitting next to her, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand gently, and his lips moving, forming quiet mumbles that only she can hear. The subtle movement of a nod of her light brown haired head is all that tells me she is listening. The sight is so different from the actions my mother and Andrew had participated in together. He would be reluctant to touch her at times, and others he would almost smother her in affection. She would seclude herself from him, and I once saw it as distaste for such actions. But now I know better.

Wordlessly I made my way towards the stairs and trudged up, allowing Josh and my mom to talk. My real surprise however, was the person sitting on my bed. Zeke sat on the edge of my bed with his hands in his lap, his head tilted down. Immediately my skin bristled and my fists clenched, my body becoming alert and preparing itself for an attack of words. So I breathe, and close the door behind me, waiting to hear whatever he has to say. Then he parts his lips and something like a croak tumbles from them onto the floor, then he tries again, "I'm sorry…" He says, my hands loosen and my shoulders drop. "I shouldn't have... I should have just waited, I made this much harder on you than it should be."

"Yes, you did," I mumble to him, walking over to him and sitting next to him. The bed bouncing slightly, "Zeke, if you were really sorry, you could get to know me, rather than protect yourself. Trust me to keep you looking good rather than fear my mistakes making you look bad,"

"I know, Tris I know, I just-" And with that I brought my hand up, and struck the back of his head. He made an ugh noise as his teeth clicked together, his eyebrows knitted together and a frown plastered his lips as he rubs the back of his head. "I also wanted to say that my dad asked me to train you,"

"Train me?"

"So, when the moment comes, instead of slapping the back of my head you can deck me in the face," A bubble of laughter left my throat and I shoved him with my shoulder, "He asked you?"

"I happen to know self defense, and have taught it to many people."

"Why?"

"My dad got in trouble a lot, and so did my brother."

"So you learned it?"

"With Four."

"Four? Why are you so willing to teach me?"

"You're not the first to be in a vulnerable position, Tris," He says to me, but he states it like a fact, not like an insult. And surprisingly it doesn't brush me the wrong way, it just makes me painfully aware of who Zeke is. He's the older brother to me and Uriah, and he's done more for his family than what I could imagine. And yet he sits here on the bed he has practically gifted to me and is offering to teach me how to defend myself, to be strong, to be independant. I did not know Zeke from school, nor did I ever think I would, things started falling apart before they even started to come back together, and surprisingly, amazingly, somehow, I managed to get out of a harsh spot and into a softer one. Then my lips part after I wet them, and two words tumble out, "Thank you."


	11. Falling Together

Falling Together

Zeke pivots and throws a punch, the blow landing in my side and causing me to stumble back. Though this seems to be no improvement it's much better than my previous landings, my butt already getting sore from falling on it. With a hiss I get much closer and try to knee him in the stomach, but he see's it coming and blocks it, pushing my knee down and shoving me back with his shoulder. I'm panting now, the frustration getting to me. We've been at this for hours and he hasn't said anything to me to improve and perfect my throws or stance. He remains poised and looks me in the eye, his fists raised up protecting his jaw and chin. All of this frustrates me, because I hate feeling weak, and he's not helping me get any stronger.

We circle each other, me because I'm not sure what to do next and him because he wants to get closer. He's a strange teacher, the only things he has said to me was put my fists up and then to attack him, now here we are. He steps and feigns with his right, I fall for the slower punch and block, leaving my right open to his left hook. I fall, landing on my side before scrambling back up, he doesn't give me a chance however because he drops down and sweeps my legs from under me. An 'oof' and my back slapping to the mat sounds and I lay there half in awe of the move and half cursing myself for not expecting it.

I look over and see that he has dropped his fists and now stands in front of me, with a huff I kick out when he comes closer. He catches my ankle and drags me to the middle of the mat and throws my leg down, I scowl and frown, glaring at the mat for not being strong enough or fast enough. Zeke comes up and grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet. He stands there and evaluates my body, I feel open, and it's not something I'm entirely comfortable with. Then he lets me go and takes a step away from me, "Throw a punch at my chest as hard as you can," He tells me,

"Why? What's the point? You're just going to block it anyway," I say frustrated,

"As hard as you can Tris," And he gestures with his fingers for me to bring it, I roll my eyes and get into what I think is the correct stance. Then I huff and throw a right straight, as expected he catches my wrist. With a scoff I glare at him and rip my hand away, "What was that?" He demands, his voice isn't angry, but he'd be a damn good instructor. He's serious when he wants to be. "I told you you'd block it!" I yell, tired of this.

"I told you to punch as hard as you can," He takes my wrist and shakes it, my hand flopping around in the process, "You weren't trying Tris, I need you to try,"

"Why?" I demand, "So you could prove how weak I am?"

"Yes," He says emotionless, a yell escapes me as I shove him back, and throw a right-left jab to his chest before slamming my body into him. Now we're on the mat, him on his back and me next to him because I lost my footing. I get to my feet before he does and I look down at him, he's sweaty and panting, upon instinct I thrust my hand out and pull him to his feet. "See, that," He says wincing and standing up straighter, "Was trying, that was actually putting your heart into it," My eyes stare at him, at his perspiration covered forehead and neck, at his mischief filled eyes and at the half smirk. I want to feel angry, like he was saying I wasn't putting my all into fighting him, but now, I don't feel angry at all. My brain understanding what he was saying and suddenly I feel almost proud of myself. A small smile twitched onto my lips as he smirks, "See, I bet you don't feel angry anymore do you?" He says as if reading my mind, taking my hand in his and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. I hiss and pull my hand back cradling it and looking down at it, my eyes studying the red and broken, bruised and bloody flesh.

I frown and look up at him, his hand pats my shoulder and rests there, "I know you may not think you did well today, but this helped you and me a lot," I nod, waiting for him to continue as we walk out of the garage, "Now I know what you need help on and what you don't, and for you, this gave you a feel for a real spar, and for the hurt your hands will need to prepare for," He lets go of my shoulder and leads me into the kitchen gesturing to the island as he opens the freezer, "I mean, don't get me wrong Tris, you don't have much muscle, and you need a lot of work," He pulls out a few ice packs and takes off his shirt, wrapping it around one and using it for his chest. I tap the counter and reach for one that he hands to me, "But don't worry, you'll be good before you know it. The only shitty part about it all is that you have to go to school sore,"

"Oh my God, I didn't even think about that," I look up from nursing my hand, "How do you go through this and football practice?"

"Balls," I stare at him, not expecting that answer,

"What?" I ask half disturbed at his language,

"Well, and a lot of rest, and perhaps a massage, but those are rare," He says not making much sense. He notices my puzzled face and tries explaining, "Look, it's gonna be rough for a few weeks, but if you rest and take care to eat right you should be just fine,"

"Uhm, when will we be practicing?"

"Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays,"

"Back to back?"

"Do you want to take away your Fridays?" He asks, peeling a banana, "What if you want to hang out with your friends?"

"I didn't think about that," I say, he sits down next to me and offers half his fruit, I look at him weird, "You'll be sorry, and sore as hell, bananas are chock full of potassium, you'll learn sooner or later that they're your friend," Taking his advice I grab the rest of the white soft fruit and eat it slowly. After a while of silence Josh comes home from work and Zeke leaves to take a shower, telling me one thing, "Try not to get into fights at school,"

Now here I am, lying awake in my bed on a Tuesday morning. My alarm hasn't rung yet and I really don't feel like getting up. My limbs are sore from training with Zeke, I didn't go to school Monday like I had planned, and maybe that's why I'm so reluctant to get up. But now my eyes grow tired of staring at the white ceiling and trying to trace patterns from nothing. With a quiet sigh I slip out from under my comforter and let the cold from the floor seep into my skin.

Grabbing my towel I walk into the bathroom and take a 15 minute shower, then emerging to put on matching grey underclothes, a grey t-shirt and black pants. Looking at my shoes and grabbing grey flats and putting my hair into a messy bun I go to open my door and hear a knock. I open it and see Zeke up and ready to go, "Hey, morning," He says,

"Good morning," I greet,

"Christina is here to take you to school," He says, "I'm assuming you told her too?"

"Yeah, I needed to tell someone, and she's my closest friend," I admit, afraid he'll get upset at me so early in the morning. He stares at me half asleep, before saying, "As long as it doesn't blow up on the internet that you're my sister," He shrugs and starts walking to the stairs,

"Are you ashamed?" I ask quietly,

"No, not at all," He says stopping at the top, "I just don't think you could handle Andrew finding you so fast, and the pressure would be heavy on all of us," I nod, and he heads downstairs. I turn and grab my backpack and close my door behind me, making my way downstairs to greet Christina. I find her sitting on the couch talking amiably to Uriah while Zeke is in the kitchen making some eggs and toast.

Making my way to the kitchen to help Zeke I hear snippets of what they're talking about. Something about the upcoming winter sports celebrations and the Winter formal. Part of me finds it amusing and refreshing to have such conversations in my household. When I start to help Zeke with simmering the ham, Christina comes up and hugs me from the side. I smile and greet her, "Good morning Christina,"

"Hi Tris!" She eyes the food we're making, "Can I help?"

"Well, it's a simple meal, but if you could set the island that would be great?"

"You're eating here?" She asks me,

"Uhm, did you have something else in mind?"

"Coffeeeee?" She says quietly but rather happily, like a kid about to giggle.

"Really, you need coffee?" Zeke groans,

"Well, I saw this really good chocolate croissant at this coffee shop and I was wondering if Tris would go with me so I have an excuse to buy it," She blabbers,

"Okay," I say, smiling at Zeke and cutting the gas to the burner. I grab my stuff and hug Zeke and Uriah before leaving and hopping into Christina's Volkswagen Bug. She flips on the radio as we drive to town, Riptide by Vance Joy begins blaring through the speakers, the chorus playing enthusiastically. Christina pulls up to a red light and begins singing, "Lady runnin' down to the riptide! Taken away to the dark side, I wanna be your left hand man!"

"I love you when you're singing that song and, I got a lump in my throat cause, you're gonna sing the words wrong," I sing with her, though she's already parked in front of the coffee shop Amnition. We stay in the car singing along to the lyrics until the song is over, and I didn't think I would ever have so much fun screaming the words to a song. When it's over we're giggling and complementing each other as we walk in, and when we wait in line Christina speaks up, "Did you know he was a Football player?"

"Who? Vance Joy?"

"Yeah,"

"For what team?"

"I don't freaking know," She says, her face screwed up, "Seattle Seahawks or something, I'll have to look it up," She says,

"Well, It's not your job to know, women don't pay attention to teams and-"

"Yeah! As long as you play on a team,"

"No-"

"Money!" She giggles and I laugh at her absurdness, and soon we have the coffee she doesn't need and the pastries that were just baked. And by the time I'm done eating my buttered blueberry scone we're at school and greeting Will and Marlene. She is tall, but not incredibly skinny, she looks like she plays soccer by her longer legs and softer hands, her hair is this golden blonde and light brown contrast that stands out beautifully in the waterfall braid she hosts. Her eyes the color of honey with green flakes in them, and there are freckles that dance across her nose and cheeks over her tanned skin. "Hi Tris, nice to finally meet you,"

"Hey, yeah you too, I'm sorry for not being too talkative the first day," I start,

"Oh don't worry," She smiles and waves me off, "We all have our bad days, I just hope we can be friends?" She asks,

"Yeah, I'd like that," I say, smiling softly at her, liking how this day is going so far. It seems like the world is looking up with the blue sky and only a few clouds, despite the fast approaching harsh winter, it's actually warm as the sun touches my skin. Maybe it might be the coffee or the scone talking but now, I feel at ease, happy, I've got friends, Four, two brothers and a happy mom and dad. "Tris?" Christina breaks me from my amity like state,

"Hmm? What's up?"

"The sky," Will says,

"Oh hah hah you're so funny I might die," Christina says sarcastically, then she turns to me, "Really are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good, what did you need?" I glance at Will,

"Marlene is head decorator for the winter formal coming up," I look at her with surprised eyes, she just smiles and waves, "She was wondering if we could help her set everything up, because her families over in Chicago, and she wants to go home earlier,"

"Oh yeah, I'll help," I say,

"Sweet! Thank you so so muuuuch," She almost squeals as she hugs Christina and I,

"Woah wait," I say, "There's got to be a catch," I pull away and narrow my eyes at the two of them. Marlene looks dumbstruck and Christina is pouting, sticking her lower lip out at me. I almost want to laugh at the honey doe eyes of Marlene, and I almost do, until Christina speaks up, "We are going shopping for dresses, and for clothes for you,"

"I have clothes!" I declare, hoping to get out of it, last time shopping wasn't so bad, but I'm wary of how many people we're bringing, I don't want to look like a fool trying on clothes I'd never heard of in front of them. "Yeah, I know, but still Tris, wouldn't it be nice to branch out, have some girl time?"

"Yeah, I guess," I agree with a shrug, secretly hoping Will could get me out of this, "Is Will coming with?"

"Actually, Thanksgiving is coming up right? In like two weeks, so that means the break is coming up, if you really want some girl time, maybe we could all hang out during the break before you girls go out together," He offers,

"Actually Will," Christina says, "That sounds great! Maybe Uriah would let us play Candor-Dauntless at his house!" She giggles gleefully, bouncing on her feet,

"Candor-Dauntless?" I ask her, she turns to me and opens her mouth but Will beats me to it, "Truth or dare, but given the history of this city we only saw it fit,"

"I've never played before," I admit sheepishly, Marlene looks at me live I've just laid an egg and Christina squeals, "Another excuse to go shopping!"

"Why?"

"If you refuse to do a dare or don't answer a truth question, you have to remove an article of clothing, shoes and socks don't count, so wear layers," Will informs me, I sigh and agree anyway. My mind getting tired of asking questions and answering them, after all I wasn't used to so much conversation. My insecurity nips at my mind and reminds me how much of a loner I was before I spoke up and got Will out of that fight. Warm arms wrap around my waist loosely before I feel warm breath on my shoulder. With a smile overtaking my face I turn and face a very tall, very handsome Four. "Hey," I say,

"Hey," He mumbles back, holding me tighter against him, his warmth invading my entire being. My heart beating hard in my chest as he looks down at my eyes first, then to my nose, and my cheeks before landing on my lips. My lips pull into a grin as his dark blue eyes close as his nose brushes against mine. My eyes close soon after and his lips brush against mine before settling firm. But his kiss is over too soon, he pulls away and puts his arm around my shoulders. "You look good, Tris," He whispers to me, then he addresses Will with a strange handshake/high five. It isn't too long however that we all have to go to class, as the bell rings and drags us all inside. Christina keeps me close and we stay further behind, "Way to go Tris, when did that happen?"

"Four was at my house after I finished talking to you,"

"Oh my god, did you two hook up?"

"What?"

"Like, you know," She then does a strange motion with her finger and hand, it takes me a few seconds and apparently that's too long for her, "Did you guys have sex?"

"What? No!" I yell louder than intended, getting a few looks from passing students, "He just, we decided to get together," I say quietly, grabbing my textbook for English. My eyes noticing how dull my locker seems, "Are you happy about it?"

"Yeah," I tell her, "I guess,"

"You guess?"

"I don't really know, things are better," I say with a shrug and lean against my locker, looking down at my grey shoes. "Tris," She starts, her voice laced with concern, "You should talk to him, state your intentions. Because, honestly he might want something out of the relationship you're not ready for,"

"You mean sex," I say dully, I didn't know much about it, not physically, just the action of reproducing. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but yeah," She says softly, "I could be totally wrong, but talk to him first before doing anything big like going over to his house or inviting him over or going out on dates, and if he tries to push you to do something you don't want to do, it's okay not to do it, you shouldn't feel obligated to do anything,"

"Okay, thank you," I say to her, a small smile on my face. I bid my goodbyes and walk to English, her words filling my mind with doubts and thoughts of Four that I wish I didn't have. If she was right and he only wanted one thing, he'd better learn sooner or later that I'm not that type of girl.


	12. Bad Intentions prt 1

Bad Intentions part 1

Maybe to another girl these actions wouldn't be as nerve wracking. Maybe to any other girl they would strip from their sweaters and pull on some leggings, then they would giggle as they pull their long straight hair into a tight ponytail at the center on their heads. They would have a fun time running around and pretend to hit people with the titanium and aluminum bat. But I'm not like that, despite the encouragement and training I get from Zeke, I will always be an introvert. I'm not the type of girl that squeals about a party that has Jello-shots or a jacuzzi, with all the good looking rugby players attending and drinking along with me.

I stopped being that type of girl a while ago, and now the smell of alcohol hits me like a brick. But that old me has nothing to do with what I'm doing standing here, at the entrance to the girls locker room. My fingers grip the black strap to my bag and my nails scrape against the woven fabric. It almost sounds like a zipper, but it doesn't. My teeth take my lip and tarnish it, ripping it apart and beating it till it bleeds, and the taste of copper rubs my tongue. I shuffle against the wall as two girls pass me, laughing and talking rather loudly about something related to them.

There are several other girls in this room, the floor checkered black and white and the lockers a painted navy blue. Something along the lines of Four's eyes, I close my own and release my lip, I don't want to think about him right now. Slowly, I heave air into my lungs and open my eyes. My feet move upon their own accord and my hands grip what they can. There is a slight sting in my left hand and I look down. Crescents appear in a smooth line across my palm, I'll have to remember to cut my nails later. My eyes lift to where I'm walking and throughout the day I've been remembering the numbers and the combination. My fingers brush the metal plates that hold the black numbers and a letter. My lips mouth the words when the blue rectangle stands stark among the others. P013. Fingers twitching at my sides as my weight shifts to the other side, my brain coaxing me to open it and shove in my bag, and then storm out to the field. God I wish it was that simple, warily I stare at the clean blue painted metal, so clean and primed that I can see my cold colored form as a reflection.

Somehow this wills me to reach out and spin the lock, the numbers on the tip of my tongue until it unlocks with a simple click. The air around me thickens and my breath halts in my throat, my fingers frozen on the latch that allows me to open the navy locker. Do I really want this? isn't self defense enough? Do I need this to prove myself to anyone, will this make Zeke happy with me? Will this wake my mother up, and tear us out of the dark pit my birth created? Seems to be the cause of a lot of problems, actually. The whistle blow outside the double doors answers my questions. And it's funny how finite and simple it is, the answer to all of that.

My mind skims past what I did in between the time in the locker room and now, maybe it was to the fault of my nerves. because now I stand in front of the girls softball coach, my hands clenched into fists at my sides and my eyes squinting up at her, due to my impeccable shortness, and the fact of the angle of the sun, and it really hurts. She turns, her head blocking the sun, and I'm suddenly grateful for how tall she is. She has soft hazel eyes and dark dirty blonde hair, almost light brown. Her skin nicely tanned and the tennis cap on her head a vibrant pink. My eyes find a scar that lines up from the corner of her left eyebrow to her hairline. She looked at me, her soft eyes complemented by her high cheek bones, I would have to say she has native american in her, because her face resembles as such. She smiled at me and shifted her clipboard to the side, clicking her pen idly she opened her mouth, "Can I help you?"

"Are…" My breath caught in my throat, I am not used to addressing teachers directly, even if they could be of assistance, and then my mind snapped into place, explaining why the coach's features looked so familiar, "Miss Johanna?" My voice peeps before I stop it, Her eyes light up, and I realize this is the first time we've spoken up close. "Beatrice, how nice to see you,"

"You as well," I greet, a smile forms on her lips as I continue, "Though, it's Tris, now,"

"Well then Tris, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Actually," I drone off, my storm grey eyes sweeping across the field, tracing the outline of the backstop and the pitchers mound. "I was wondering if you take softball tryouts?" My voice says, though my mind did not command it so. It seems I am not the only one perplexed at my sudden outbursts, Joan looks at me with a shocked expression, her eyebrows raised, and her lips slightly puckered, "You want to join?"

"I want to tryout," I correct, "I have no idea if I qualify," Without shame she does a double take on my stature and smiles, "Well, we have some smaller girls on our team, if you make it I don't see a problem with putting you on the team," My heart begins to pound in my chest and my hands start to sweat. The nature of it all beginning to get to me, my knees feel weak and my head pounds with my heart like a vicious tune, it's ruling my body and giving me the shake down. Spreading fear through my bones and limbs and suddenly I feel like I can't move, the world around me gets dark and my body heats up. Panic sears at my lungs and I can't breathe right. The true weight of what I agreed to is now eating me alive before I even agreed to it.

Then there's Christina, jogging over to me in her softball attire, a cap on backwards and her eyes bright. Joan speaks up and somehow the mention of my closest friends name wills me to listen, "Christina will be helping you with your tryout, she will be the hitter and you will be pitcher," Christina nods along until her coach is done giving instructions, and then her soft gaze falls on me. The almond and soft winter green soothing my fidgeting only for a moment, she gives me an easy smile and grabs my wrist gently, "I knew you'd show up,"

"What do you mean?" She smiles even bigger at me and hugs me tightly, "You get this fire in your eyes when you want to do something, I saw it when I got you your clothes," I stare at her and then I realize we've stopped walking, my eyes fall to my feet and then the backstop, where a girl stands with a glove in her hand and a mask in the other. Christina puts a ball in my hand and winks at me, smirking and jogging off her her spot. Frustration licks at my fingers as I didn't get the chance to answer her, or respond. My hand, although small, grips the ball as if it should be airless. Joan catches my attention again, "Tris! In order to pass the first of the tryout tests, you need to pitch a ball three times, one time needs to be an out," Thats a swing and a miss, my mind already knows that. "The other two, she needs to be able to hit! You only get three balls! Make it count!" And then she blows her whistle lightly, and I flinch.

My eyes drift to Christina, who stands with her knees bent and her bat up right ready to swing. Standing here with my posture straight and my eyes wide only makes me feel more out of place, doubts begin to flood my mind as to why I even bothered to try this. Because you wanted to make a change, I tell myself, then without being taught, I position my body and the ball flies from my hand, brushing my fingertips powerfully before a loud but hollow crash rips the air. Christina hit it, and my eyes widen. I did it. No I did one. A ball is thrown to me easily and I catch it, how do I strike her? Again I get into position, twisting the ball between my fingers before throwing it, this time I'm more aware of the whizz it makes as it spins and whirls into Christinas bat, she hit it again, this time however, her brows are furrowed.

She gives me a look of exasperation and suddenly I feel bewildered, why would she look at me like that? I've never thrown a ball before in my life. Now I have one more to throw, now I have to make her swing a strike. And then I realize I have no Idea what I could do, my eyes flick frantically from Joan to Christina and to the girl crouched behind her. My feet shifting under me as unease pulls at my fingers. I don't know why I'm dreading failure. Maybe it's because I came here for me, and not for anyone else, maybe because I don't want to fail myself.

Movement makes me look over to Christina, it's the girl behind her. She waves her hand beneath her until she's sure I'm looking. Then she stops and points down at the ground, holding her glove lower. And then I get it, she wants me to throw lower. A smile tries to ease onto my lips, so I bite them. It seems as though time slows down, my eyes never leaving the glove, my knee raising and my foot pivoting. My muscles clenching and my arm straining as I throw as hard as I can. My breath leaving my lungs as the threads scratch my fingers, spinning and hurling through the air as she starts to swing. She doesn't know the mit is lower, she swings at normal height, and it would have hit, but it just missed her bat.

The sound was a low muffled clap followed by a soft grunt. The titanium steel bat falling to the dirt and her hazel brown eyes wide. Suddenly my hands were in the air and my lips screamed yes. I had done it. Christina cheers with me once the shock is gone from her system, she even jumps up and down and runs toward me, Johanna nods and blows her whistle again. Christina pulls me into a hug as Joan yells, "Alright, nice job, next, I need you to run around the diamond as fast as you can. The max is 7 minutes. You may start at home base," Stiffly I nod, running has never been a problem for me, my legs are naturally made to run, it's in my genes. My heart and lungs can't keep up though.

The whistle sounds and my toes dig into the ground, breath sucking in as my legs work as hard as they can. It's easy for me to fall into a deep rythm, my breaths huffing through my nose, body stiffening up as my brain moves too fast for my body. The sun beating on my back and head, and the wind that I catch clawing through my hair. The cold air of early November licking and caressing my cheeks and nose, stinging my eyes so I have to close them. Not for long though, I push harder, my strides becoming longer and faster, my torso leaning forward slightly and then suddenly my foot slams on something solid. A whistle blows and I slow down, stopping by the back stop, my eyes landing on Joan.

She checks a timer and smiles at me, "Just under six minutes, good job Tris," My head nods and my cheeks heat up, air heaving manually into my lungs as I pant. Six minutes around a diamond this large in size, is really something. Joan tells me to walk to home base and grab a bat, so I do, and I get in a stance similar to Christina's, "Hit the ball one time, and we will talk about your entry," I nod and lock eyes with my friend who tosses the ball up before catching it. I nod and wait. My mind skips to Caleb, and questioning what his reaction would be to me wanting to join a mixed baseball game. Part of me can picture it now, him standing with his arms crossed behind the backstop- She throws the ball curving and sailing past me, "Ball!" The girl behind me screams. My tongue swipes my lips and his smooth smile comes to mind, he would be proud of me. Though he doesn't deal in activities like this. But he would care if I do, right?

My body swings and jerks as the ball flies toward me, "Strike!" The girl yells, my fingers grip harder. Would he care? Was was mainly in academics, but he was the one that paid the most attention to me in the family. He would care, I tell myself. He chased after me for that party, he would care if I try out for a team, for something great I know he would.

It skims the tips of her manicured fingers, a speed ball, I swing, resistance catching and almost making me recoil. My eyes widen and I pivot, the hollow sound of metal hitting something hard and then a whirl and whistle of spinning wind. The bat drops at my side as everyone along with me watches it sail over the fence to the football field. Home run. Christina does the squealing for me but that doesn't sate the grin that kisses my lips. The chill of the end of the day brushing my neck causing me to shiver, I think Caleb would be proud.

Johanna walks up to me, scribbling on her clipboard before flashing me a genuine and brilliant smile. She props the wood against her side and says softly, "It will take a few days, I have to speak with the other coaches and check your grades, but if everything is in the clear, you should be able to join," My lips curl up at the corners and my fingers twitch, "Thank you,"

"No problem, you've got a light in your eyes that I like," Joan says, her eyes crinkling as she smiles again, lips sealed like the action is a secret. There was something uplifting about her words, made my shoulders lighten, made it easier for me to breathe. A smile curls on my lips and something in me wants to hug her, but I hold back for professional reasons. So instead I hold out my hand and shake hers. My feet take me back to the locker rooms followed by a very excited Christina, her hazel eyes blown wide and a grin on her lips, "Oh my god Tris, when I said a week ago that you should join, I had no idea you actually heard me,"

"It took a while," I say carefully, "But I wanted to see what it's about,"

"Oh Tris, you'll have so much fun! And you know what this means?"

"What?" I ask cautiously already knowing the answer,

"Shopping!" She squeals, her arms in the air before they wrap tightly around me. She laughs, it being contagious I join in. It's been about a week since I've started going back to school full time, and every day, she and Will have been my closest friends. Christina worked hard to let me get used to physical and social interaction, whereas Will was always there to comfort me, if anything, they were the only ones who knew everything about me. And I was extremely grateful for their zipped lips and bitten tongues. A smile graced my lips as I grabbed my things from the locker not half an hour ago, I couldn't stand to look at for long. Slinging my bag over my right shoulder I slam the navy box closed. My cool colored reflection staring back at me with wild wind whipped hair and blown awake eyes. Even in the slightly blurred version of myself, I can still see the slight curl of my lips, the thin face and big eyes. I look a little closer, leaning in, and Johanna was right. There is a certain light about me now, and slowly a genuine smile spreads onto my face.

Now I allow myself to think of him, the blue eyed football player that I have grown quite comfortable with, despite the relationship- or whatever we are- being a little over a week old. I wonder what he will think once he hears of my tryout, of my nerve to be out in the open as the center of attention for once. I wonder if he would shun me or laugh with me as I explain to him how nervous I was. I wonder-

Not. I don't. My feet stop, my eyes glued to the two bodies. Christina stops with me, eyes following mine and she silences a furious gasp. All feelings of achievement flush from my body, and instead there's the heavy pounding of my heart in my aching chest. The air in my chest, however is not in sync with my rapid and anxious heart, my throat clenches and I swallow, trying to haul the air back into my lungs. Hot anger slowly circles up my limbs and relaxes my muscles before I feel the hot rub my eyes. He is there, with another girl, pressing her up against the lockers, fingers in her hair and lips glued to hers. Her fingers clawing at his shoulders and lifting his black shirt. She makes this sound when his hand slides down her side to her thigh.

A scoff falls from my lips and a scowl crosses my face, my eyes hardening into a glare and now I'm reminded of why he wanted to go out with me. Now I've been reminded of how explosive I can be, and now I want nothing more than to do it right now. Want to show him the fury that has no bounds in me. Instead, my voice comes out level in a deadly threatening way, "Hello Four, how nice of you to come pick me up," He jerks and slams her away from him, his eyes wide and lips swollen he looks at me like I looked at him when he showed up at Josh's house. Like a deer caught in headlights, and this time. I'm driving the truck that either swerves or hits the animal who made the wrong choice.

**I'm back!**


	13. Bad Intentions prt 2

**Warning, strong language and themes mentioned. **

Bad Intentions part 2

He is incredibly handsome, something I can't bring myself to unthink. His messy dark hair, his tanned skin and strong jaw, then his eyes so blue. So so blue. My breaths come out in short bursts, seething through my lips as a yell surfaces, my fists raw from beating on it. Only I would never been concerned about other girls going after him. Only I would be so naive to think he wasn't looking and winking at them behind my back. Only I, would think he was right for me, that he wouldn't have other things in mind. I stop, pressing my forehead to the bag as my arms slide around it, his intentions weren't the purest, but can I blame him? Slowly, agonizingly my head raises, my cheek squished against the leather as I catch my red rimmed eyes in the mirrored wall. Lips raw and red from being bitten, nose red and angry from working in sync with the tears that seem to finally stopped. Can I really blame him? No, I wouldn't do the same as him, I would avoid a girl like me. A girl with dull dead eyes that only hold the sort of vengeance of rage and sorrow.

There's nothing for him in a girl like me, I stopped being what he wanted before he met me. But, that doesn't mean he couldn't have at least tried, at least waited. A person can only put themselves back together so quickly, and that's just one person. I have many a friend and family who were affected. My short nails scrape the side of the bag and slowly, painfully, I allow the memories of yesterday afternoon attack me.

_His jaw clenches and unclenches, he's not angry, not yet. His eyes take in the surrounding area, ears picking up the surprised gasp of the girl. His focus lands on me, sizing me up, carefully debating as the gears turn in his head how much it would take to hurt me. If I had any weapon against him I would have drawn it by now, would have rushed into the pit of black and pulled the trigger of any gun I created. However, the only thing I'm starting to see is red. Anger. And it happily holds me close, our hands intertwined and fingers laced so tight it's hard to even let go._

_The girl tries to slink away, but I catch her, my eyes pinning her in place like a rag doll, the cruel thought of needles washes through me and I purse my lips. Turning my attention back to Four who has his mouth agape like a fish. My fists clench hard at my sides and suddenly Christina worries her fingers against my palm, as much as I am grateful to her and her ability to keep me grounded, I'm worried I might break her hand. Finally he utters a word, the one I expected because his brain can't keep up with now, it's still lost in the feel of that girls porcelain skin. "Tris,"_

_"You know, I should have known," I say loudly, making sure she's paying attention, her auburn eyes wide and filled with shame. I'm angry, I'm angry at the both of them, but it's not her fault, that much I'm sure of. "Look we can talk about this alone okay?"_

_"No," I say, "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now, about this actually," I gesture to her and I and then point at him. "You, only wanted one thing didn't you," I state, partly knowing the answer, the other part of me denying this action. Denying what I just caught him doing. He says nothing, just looks down, and I'm about to say something else, but then he pulls the trigger to detonate the ticking bomb that is me, "Is it so bad to want something from another girl that you can't give right?" It rips through me, the thought of his heated passion and tender kisses. Then it twists and scatters and a faint moan that I once elicited from him lightly cooed in my ears. No we did not have sex. But that didn't mean I was incapable. Let alone of being good at it. "Yes! It is! It's called being unfaithful Four!" I scream at him dropping my bag off my shoulder. Christina holds me back, but not my words, "You fucking asshole! How dare you say I'm incapable of giving to you! It isn't_ giving_! I'm not ever _giving_ you anything!"_

_"Not even when I ask, or when we start making out you shy away from me Tris!" He yells back, and it hurts, it hurts and makes me physically jerk as the bullet digs into my flesh. But the pain reminds me, the pain reminds me that life isn't always easy and it isn't always fun. Sometimes it's hard and sometimes it's unfair. "I shy away from you because maybe your touch bothers me!"_

_"Who's to say you aren't cheating on me then huh? If I bother you so much," He sneers,_

_"No don't freaking do that Four, don't make this about me, I'm not running around claiming this is an open relationship before shoving my tongue in someone's mouth!" I don't know why I'm screaming, maybe because my chest is tight and it's getting harder to breathe._

_"Bullshit Tris!" He yells again, clearly frustrated, "You never said that this was real anyway!"_

_"Oh so now kissing you every morning and calling you goodnight and making out with you in the halls is just suddenly friends with benefits?" He glares at me, eyes hardening into venom and I worry what he'll say next, but I don't stop, "So sorry, not sorry, but I don't roll that way, I don't want a guy who pouts when I don't fuck him the first week! I don't want him to run off to another girl to get that problem solved!" Obediently the girl he was with sits on the bench and looks down at her hands. Probably knowing she will have some part of the argument in a moment, "You've ripped my heart in two like a freaking player Four, never thought you'd do that to me but fuck! Who knows? You never open up to me anyway, the only thing we do talk about is your pleasures, we never talk about something that's interesting to me!"_

_"You always think everything's about you Tris! God it's not! Stop being so self centered!"_

_"You don't know the first fucking thing about me! You never ask how my day went! How am I self centered Four?! Because I won't have sex with you! Is that it?" I scream, my voice cracking, he stiffens, "Is it?!" I scream louder. My voice bouncing off the walls vibrating the lockers and shaking my chest as I struggle to breathe evenly. Christina now hugs my side, warm arms draped around my waist. She might be partially deaf now, I will apologise after this is over. "You've gone and dragged this girl into us, I don't know why I care so much. It's clear you couldn't give a damn about me!" I yell,_

_"This happened because you're a prude Tris! You're going to fucking die alone, just get over yourself!"_

_"Yeah fuck you too asshole! Get the fuck out of here, don't let the door hit you on the way out," I huff, eyes glaring. Hopping he gets what is coming to him. He storms out screaming over his shoulder, "With pleasure," Slamming the doors closed so hard I feel the ground shake._

_I stand there panting glaring at the door as my knees begin to shake. Slowly Christina moves and hugs me tightly, crushing me almost as I weakly comply. Slowly she eases me onto a bench facing the girl who hasn't moved. The anger, it seems is gone, letting go of my hand and leaving me to deal with the recoil of the gun I fired many times. I didn't have to reload thankfully, but now the pain and the processing eats away at me. I've learned though, how to numb my wounds before the pain becomes too great. My mouth opens, a hiss coming from it first before I try again, "You didn't know," I say to her, "Did you?"_

_"I…" She mumbles, her shoulders shaking and her fingers picking at her nails, her brown hair falling over one shoulder. "He never told you that I was his girlfriend," She slowly shakes her head, rubbing her eyes with one hand, she looks up at me as Christina sits down next to me. She's pretty, I'll give her that much. "No," She whispers, a small sad smile curls on the corners of my lips. My eyes fall shut, I'm not angry at her, she didn't know, and Four's words. Four's words support that. "How long?"_

_"I, it, three days," Then I take in her attire, short black shorts, and a white tank top. She's part of our volleyball team. I smile at her, "You know it's not your fault,"_

_"I'm sorry! I should have said no," She cries out, the stress of the situation she was put in getting to her. "He came up to me and asked if I wanted to do something with him, I had no… I didn't know… I should have walked away,"_

_"It's okay," I mumble, "I'm Tris,"_

_"Yeah I know, he kept screaming it," I let out a nasally laugh, it comes out weak though. She tosses a small smile before saying, "Liz, it's short for Lizabet,"_

_"I wish we met under better circumstances, you seem pretty cool," She laughs at me._

_"You too, I'm sorry about all this,"_

_"Don't bother," My lips say, and then I'm on my feet, grabbing my bag with Christina at my side. "Maybe I'll see you around if we don't talk much," I say, pushing open the slammed doors gently, allowing the squeal of metal to tear through the locker room._

The door to the garage from the house opens and Zeke walks in, a bowl of Ice in hand and a cloth. He shuts the door with his bare foot, and gives me a pointed look. I step away from the punching bag and stand in the center of the mat, hands loose at my sides. He looks me up and down and smirks, "Today's friday, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Blowing off steam," I say,

"Oh, getting rid of that cold shoulder you came home with on thursday?"

"Yeah," I sigh, falling back onto my butt on the mat and crossing my legs, he stalks over, stepping onto the black mat and sitting down in front of me, placing the bowl next to us. Gently he takes my wrist in his hand, eyeing the damage I've inflicted onto my already raw and bruised knuckles. "Are you even human?" He asks me, his eyes raising to meet mine, I toss out a sick grin. "God, you really went to town on that bag, I might have to buy a new one, and I'm surprised you haven't broken your hand yet,"

"It doesn't hurt," I claim, his hand closes around mine and squeezes, a yelp falls from my lips as I rip my hand from him. He raises an eyebrow, "Doesn't hurt?"

"I've been at this two weeks now," I say, hoping that is enough explanation,

"Yeah?" He feigns interest,

"It doesn't hurt unless you squeeze,"

"Right," He looks up at me, ice wrapped in a paper towel in his hand, "Just like punches don't hurt unless you're hit," I purse my lips together at him, watching as his fingers very gently touch my skin, cupping my fingers, slowly rubbing the pad of his thumb along my knuckles. Gently he places the ice on my hand, letting me hold it in place. It's kind of funny, having Zeke as a brother, he's the type of guy to have two personalities, but then again everyone wears masks for other people. Normally he's happy go lucky, like Uriah except makes messed up practical jokes and says things that no one else would dare to say. He's brash and shameless when he's around others. But with his family, he's responsible, sensible, respectful, tender and patient. It's like looking at two different people. I admire him for that.

His hand touches my shoulder and I shake my head slightly, looking at him now, "You ran away from me there,"

"Yeah," I say softly, "Sorry about that,"

"Do you want to talk about it, what made you upset I mean?" I stare at him, his hazel green and blue eyes locked on me already. There's a certain request but a submissive air about him sometimes. This is one of those times. Suddenly I'm on my knees in front of him he looks up at me and I wrap my arms around him slowly. Reveling in the heat of his body, pressing myself into a hard hug, tight against him as he holds me. A strange thing for some siblings, but sometimes you need someone to hold, or hold you. His heart beats slow in his chest and his hand slowly rubs between my shoulders, I focus on him, on his gentleness, on his content behaviour. Wishing that if I hug him hard enough, I could make all these feelings go away. Maybe stop the dogfight in my heart.

**I've never been too good at writing arguments, as I hate to argue, I get firm when something pisses me off but that's about it. I'm not a fan of the yelling and screaming, I've had enough of that between my mum and I. But here you are! I wanted it to be much longer, but I settled on this because it would become two chapters in one. **


	14. Mirrors

Mirrors

Ever since I was a little girl, I was naturally compelled to know myself. And to me the first step of that was to look in the mirror next to my mother. We would stand next to each other and look at each other in the mirror and then back at ourselves to see where the similarities and differences began. While we did that I would ask her about her life and her goals, what she was like when she was younger, how she got to where she was. If she was happy.

Those little details probably had nothing to do with knowing myself, but it set my curious mind at ease, at least until I hit the beginnings of puberty. Then I noticed how my brother would look at me weird when I claimed to like something I used to hate. Then I noticed how Andrew would insist upon buying me new clothes, ones that would cover my natural figure for the sake of soothing his troubled mind. I painstakingly experimented with what I liked and didn't through clothing and other things. Through glancing at the reflection of myself in a window or even in the tables I worked at in school, I would notice how lanky I've become, how awkward my limbs are in comparison to my facial structure. How different I looked from other girls.

It was around that time that Andrew had convinced Caleb and I to be utterly selfless, to work in unison without drawing attention to ourselves; we were to exist without existing. And somehow, for almost three years I had thought he was right. I thought looking in the mirror and seeing how my lips curled into a smile, seeing the color of my eyes and how my hair looked; I had thought studying my features like a textbook had been wrong and selfish. I had hated how I looked, had hated mirrors, and the game my mother and I used to play was long forgotten.

Now with everything I've learned, with the loss of my brother, with a new roof over my head, I'm struggling to fight that sense as the mirrors I had come to loath surround me. Pointing out every curve, every contour, every color and angle of me I hadn't a clue existed. I'm dressed in black workout attire, sweating from my pores and clenching my bleeding knuckles. My light blonde and dark brown hair sticking out from my ponytail that I had perfected. Looking in the mirror at my panting self, at my eyes blown wide in focus, it was hard for me to imagine the girl dressed in grey. That silent and awkward teenager who refused to take part in any self serving act.

Under this roof, I was different, not even two weeks here and things had pushed and shoved to make this daunting girl. I used to hate looking at myself in mirrors, Caleb did too. But now that I'm here, now that I'm breaking the rules that tied the both of us down for so long, I feel good. But thinking of Caleb, who was nothing short of a bookworm, a genius in training, I try to imagine how he would act if he saw me like this. For Christmas it seems he wanted to let me rebel at least a little bit, he might have been older than me and picture perfect, but buying me things was an act of rebellion in itself. Maybe I didn't know my brother as well as I thought I did.

Maybe we were both trying to reach out in silent ways, pulling away from the embrace that Andrew held up for so long. Sure it might not have all been just him, we welcomed the saying 'it is in our nature to be selfish', and we blamed our inborn awkwardness on the want of self serving things. Still I'm not every good at talking with people unless it's short, still I have a hard time getting a joke. Still I refuse to take a glance in the mirror once I get out of the shower. But I'm learning that all of it is normal, and we all gradually grow out of it.

The garage door slams open next to me causing me to whip my head around to see the face of my brother, Zeke, his eyes more green now bore into my form and he clenches his taped up fists. "Someone's at the door for you,"

"Who?"

"Four," He mumbles, walking over to the beat up punching bag, I imagine if it was a fleshy toned bag that it would be covered in scrapes and ugly bruises. I stare at him as he starts to warm up, jumping in place and counting silently, every once and a while planting his feet down and jabbing the air before jumping on his toes again. I had told Zeke about Four and what had happened, and surprisingly he had taken my side, adding in a few curses to his former friends name. I know he only cursed to make me feel better, and it did, but I broke a strong bond that they had made together by even going out with Four. Now that he's here requesting an audience with me, Zeke and I are going to be at each other's throats. Begrudgingly, a sigh leaves my lips and my wrapped bare feet slap hard against the dark tile of the garage floor before I step up into the house. Strutting through the laundry room and into the kitchen I find his tall and imposing form and all standing in the front doorway, talking in an animated manner to Josh.

I harden my face into a glare and walk on, I'm not pissed at him, in fact I'm surprised he chose to finally show up. Zeke had warned me that Four was that type of person, the type to screw up somehow and then beg for forgiveness, and most of the time he got it. Most being every time until me. I pick up a bit of their short kept conversation, "So she's here?"

"She lives here yes," Josh dodges,

"I need to talk to her," Four pleads,

"Does she want to talk to you?" Josh asks, and then Four see's me and freezes up. Josh is the one to turn next as I walk over, arms folded over my chest, "No, I'm not sure I do,"

"Tris, can we talk?" Four nearly pleads, he's almost standing in the door.

"Did you not hear me?" I ask, a cruel smirk sliding over my lips,

"I did but just- hear me out," He says, I hear Josh pop his shoulders next to me and I huff through my nose. I feel my lips tug into a frown as my traitorous heart battles my mind on whether or not to let him in. "Fine," I scoff, turning on heel and walking into the kitchen, my feet slapping hard against the wooden floors. Josh shuts the door and locks it and I hear Four padding behind me like a lost puppy. "So what do you want?"

"Can we talk? In private?"

"No," I say, shaking my head and furrowing my eyebrows, "Whatever you've got to say to me you can say in front of Josh," I gesture to him for good measure, wrinkling my nose and shooting a look at Four. Traitorously my eyes scan him up and down, taking in his ruffled hair, his flushed and slightly puffy lips, his disheveled clothes, his blown wide pupils. My first inkling is that he's been sucking face with some other girl before he came here, and that thought puts a sour taste in my mouth.

He purses his lips tight together, his eyes threatening to harden as I've told him something he didn't want to hear, "What do you want?" I say, and I know I sound rather unpleasant, but the sight and sound of him making out with another girl is also unpleasant. "I came to get you back," He says with a straight face, I scoff and force out a heavy laugh. Is he serious?

"Then you can turn around and walk right out that door Four, because I've seen what you're really like,"

"You were my first kiss!" He nearly yells,

"Is that what you want everyone to believe?"

"It's the truth," He declares, leaning over the island and string up something intense under my skin.

"So, what?" I say, shaking my head, "You wanted to broaden your horizons? And me being your first kiss I can understand if it was a little under the scale of greatness, but you feel the need to shove your tongue down another girl's throat?" He doesn't say anything, just tenses up. "What were you doing before you came here?"

"Getting coffee," He nearly growls,

"Really? Because to me it looks like you almost had sex with a girl, unless the just fucked look is what you're looking for," I sneer, crossing my arms over my chest again, nails digging into my upper arms.

"Nothing I say is going to get you back!" He yells distraught, throwing his arms out at me, if I didn't know any better I would have said he was bucking at me. A bitter taste washes on my tongue as we approach the seat of an argument, it seemed these were near never ending at a little over a week, "Because everything you're saying to me? Four? They're all excuses! It's not what I want to hear! It's not going to teach you anything if I just fucking take you back," I explain,

"What do you want me to learn?" He sounds like he's begging, it sounds like an awful thing, falling from his lips. It sounds wrong. "Figure it out yourself, and when you do you can come back here and try to get me back," I toss out, narrowing my eyes at him before shrugging it off, "You know, maybe you don't know me. Maybe you only looked at the outside and thought I was easy,"

"I didn't think you were easy,"

"You must have thought something, being a girl out to please others? Of course, then I have to go and kiss you, I bet that threw you off big time,"

"Tris stop,"

"No, make me," I hiss, "Is it bothering you? Me throwing everything out in the open like this? So it's not just between us?"

"Yes it is!" He snaps,

"You sure? Didn't bother you in the locker room!" I yell,

"For fucks sake stop bringing that up Tris!" His form is something close to the form of fury itself, he looks like as if he could jump over the island and strangle me, he would. Well he could try, my mind flashes two dogs across my eyes fighting and rolling around in the dirt, their yelping and snarls ripping through the air as their teeth snap and claws hook into the skin of their foe. "Get out of here," I mumble half heartedly, my mind is done with arguing and my body aches from days of beating it into a walking comatose state. "What?" He asks,

"You heard me," It is at this time that my bones grow weary, I don't want to see him. I'm no longer angry with him, just tired, just sad. I can't say we had much, can't say we had a bond and now it was broken, because we didn't. Our relationship started because I kissed him, it started on physical dependence, and that demands more than just kisses and hugs. I'm not ready for that, and even though he wants it, he's not ready yet either.

My fingers pick at the black rimmed white sports tape, and I begin to take it off, listening to it stuck and peel apart as I unwind it. Four doesn't move, just stares at me with his beautiful dark eyes. I frown at myself, I can't be thinking about how handsome he is, about how much I enjoyed his arms around me, even if it was for a short time I enjoyed the feeling of his lips on mine. "You know Four, I'm sorry,"

"What?"

"I'm sorry our relationship is based off of physical chemistry and not emotional, not social. I'm sorry that you went out with the wrong girl, lost your first kiss to me," My hands ball up the sticky tape and toss it in the trash, eyeing the counter and studying the details of the quartz counter. I don't know how it is that I've come to a sort of post consensus now that he's here in front of me. I'm just tired of this, I need to get away from relationships for now. I need to settle, and that may be selfish, but ultimately it wouldn't be. If I stayed with Four, it would be an incredibly uncomfortable relationship, I would be emotional and unstable, Four wouldn't know what the heck to do with me. If we waited, and he really did want to be with me, I know he would mature and know what he likes and doesn't by the time I'm ready.

Josh shoots me a look before slinking away from the kitchen, the kind of look that says 'good luck', would I need it in a private conversation with Four? When his form retreats into the garage and out of sight, my eyes drift across the room, lingering on paintings and photos and furniture until they land on Four's face. He looks out of place here, with his tall stature and lean build. He looks almost awkward, as if he isn't used to having more than one presence in a room. He hasn't responded to my apology yet, and I wonder if he's having a hard time accepting it. Talk to him! Then suddenly I'm stuttering and struggling to ask him a simple question, "What would be best for you?" He doesn't say anything, his dark blue eyes looking darker now as he watches me, "You really want to be with me? Or do you want to be with someone else?"

"I…" He stops, looking much more confused now and more upset than angry.

"Four," He looks up at me, "Take a break, take some time away from me and just think about what you really want right now,"

"You know what Tris?" A voice asks, then feet descend the stairs and my eyes snap to my brother Uriah. His hair is wet and his eyes a bright blue, "Taking a break from each other sounds like a great idea,"

"You were listening?" I ask, feigning offense,

"Tris," Uriah says flatly, eyeing me, "I'm your brother, get over it, we hear everything," He walks over to us and fist bumps Four before opening the fridge, and pulling out a cola. Snapping it open and looking at the both of us, "Oh right, Four, we're going camping in a bit, ya know, still gotta pack and such. We're leaving tomorrow, Dad wanted me to ask if you'd like to go with?" My lips part in disbelief, Josh invited him?

"He can't do that," I say,

"He's the man of the house," Uriah counters, smiling at Four, his slate blue eyes sparkling with something close to mischief, "You up for coming with?"

"We need space Uriah," I say, horror licking at my bones, making them shiver and pop in my body turning my motions stiff and robotic. He smirks and looks at me, full on, his eyes crinkling when he begins to grin, "There'll be plenty of space in the outdoors,"

"We need it from each other," I say sternly,

"Okay," Uriah says shrugging his shoulders, "You can sleep in different tents, but it gets freaking cold out there, we're driving up to the great lake, you know, Michigan?"

"In november?" I ask, perplexed, that seem's like a terrible idea.

"Yeah for a few days and then we come back, dad think's it's a great way to detox from the city life, he never liked it,"

"I'd love to go," Four speaks up, my skin prickles with a searing heat and it spreads down my spine, quickly I jerk and stare at him furiously, "Did you not hear me?" I ask for the second time today.

"I did," He shrugs, an easy smile slithering over his lips, he looks much more at ease now, "I'm just a bit of a rebel." Anger eats at my fingertips as they press my nails harder into the palms of my hands, I focus on the pain, focus on the anger to keep from lunging at both him and my brother. A huff escapes me and suddenly my feet have taken me to the stairs, effortlessly I glide up them, taking two at a time. On a warpath heading into my room, painfully aware of the footsteps following me. And it's only when he closes my door that I start to lose my inner peace, "What the hell are you doing?" I snarl, it sounds wrong coming from my mouth, animalistic, I'm not an animal. But right now I want nothing more than to hold my ground and attack like one, viciously, predatory like. I had not known myself to be this aggressive, I don't think Four expected it either because he looks stricken.

Then he opens his mouth, eyes narrowing at me, hardening his features into stone, he's coiling against himself like a snake would when they feel threatened, "I agreed because I go every year,"

"Not this year," I scoff,

"You don't get to make that decision," He states,

"I get to decide what's good for my health, you are not," I gesture to him, noticing the semi dry blood on my palm and the dark red crescents under my fingernails. He scowls at me and his demeanor falls to just annoyed, "Stop acting like such a child Tris, your life's not so hard, and I won't make it any harder by going up to lake michigan with my friends who happen to be your brothers,"

"I am not childish-"

"Okay, then you're hot headed, rude, naive, foolish, moody, aggressive, and you throw a fit when something goes wrong," He says venomously,

"You don't know! You don't know what it's like to lose a brother, what it's like to lose your parent!"

"I do know!" He screams suddenly, instantly my body recoils back a few steps as if he's breathing fire, my heart is pounding in my chest. My words and his begin to burn into my mind and I watch as his beautiful eyes begin to tear up an angry red. Disbelief washed over my skin, and hours seem to go by before I manage to make a sound, "What?" my voice raspy and hard to hear. I try to clear my throat but that action hurts almost as much as talking. He shakes his head and sniffles forcing back the tears as he shakes his head, glaring at the ceiling fan much like I did. "You're not the only one," He says firmly, steadily, "Who knows the feeling of loss, abandonment, neglect, confusion," He lists off, his eyes returning to my body and pinning me in chains to this spot. "So don't think you are, alright? You're not the center of everything, and not everything is about you,"

"I don't-"

"I'm done," He says over me, "done with being with you, done trying to get you back or even trying to talk to you because it seems like you couldn't care less about what I say. You got what you wanted Tris!" He says with false enthusiasm, "I'm out of your life, I'm not after you anymore, and if anything I regret even trying," He states. Turning on his heels he shakes his head, looking at the ground as he walks over to my door. He hesitates, but he doesn't lift his head or turn to look at me, does he want me to stop him? If he does, what would I say? This was what I wanted, wasn't it? And I'm left with that thought as he stomps quickly down stairs and somewhere I can't see. Deep down inside, I feel a tight twinge on my gut screaming at me that this is wrong. Somehow I know he meant his words, and this was it. Now I'd be left alone to train and talk with my mother and try to continue life as though there wasn't a massive ravine down the middle of it. I'd be left alone from the drama as I chase the baseball team and learn all the girlish things from Christina that are key to my adult life. And through all of that, Four wouldn't be in the picture. This is what I wanted, wasn't it?

**Man, they're just all over the place huh? Let me give you a run down, though Four is known for being the heart throb of half the school, he has little to no experience, with anything really and now that he's go it in a not so contained place he's freaking out. Tris on the other hand, is incredibly new to everything, and yeah she can get aggravated and upset, but I wanted her to be the type of girl who needs solidity in a relationship. I wanted them both to walk through the building of a first relationship carefully if it's going to work. I don't see Four as a cheater, and in all honesty if my boyfriend did that I'd try to ****work things out. **

**At the same time, I didn't want the both of them to be incredibly dynamic, and just fit together like most sickly romances. every couple has their rough patches and because of their inexperience, Four and Tris are stuck in one for a bit. I promise you things will turn around as they mature mentally and emotionally. **


	15. Talking

Talking

The air in my room is cold, cold enough to lick at my eyes and force them to water. The slight sting ebbing away for a few moments before a soft brush of artificial wind rubs my cheek and eyes again. My eyes, though watery and stinging, are locked onto the bottom hem of the long dark brown black out drapes by my large window. The intricate patterns of whirls and feathering look like dark oak or maybe spruce colored bark shavings, making the design pop with the texture. The tanned opaque drapes beneath the blackout brown, have a lace trim and the hem is made up of cream and tan colored tassels that fan out. Soft looking to the touch like a well woven and well kept rug.

My fingers grip my comforter harder, pulling the fluffy sheets harder against my chest as I curl around it. My body winces and shivers, goose flesh spreading up my legs back and arms, pausing between my shoulderblades and kissing at the nape of my neck, threatening to stroke my brain with its ice like fingers. I don't feel like getting up, even though I should. But it is a Monday, a torturous and vile monday that could swallow me whole if it wanted to, could shove me down a steep stair like abyss that I would scrape my knees on climbing out. I hate Mondays.

Downstairs, I can faintly hear the excited chatter between my two brothers, I can hear Josh moving around and cleaning things up, the tv snapping on and the sound blaring for just a moment before the sound sinks to a mumble against my bedroom door. Dishes clang together, a spatula scrapes against the saute pan, plates are pulled from cabinets that creak only when closed but hit the wood almost deftly no matter how hard the cupboard door is shut. Drawers are opened quickly, so much that the silverware inside can't stop the momentum pulling the butt end of the tool to the drawer side. Making a soft clicking nearly shattering sound.

Bitterness washes over me when I remember my time under Andrew's roof, there was no laughter, no excitement, just discipline and stony faces. Save for Caleb's and my getaway the tree atop the hill to which we spent so many summers on, pondering the world and discussing life. Where even in a rough dispute he and I would retreat together there, not saying a word and letting the calming breeze soothe our minds, letting the ever lush green grass grow clovers beneath our fingertips, the flowers brushing soft white and purple petals against our hair and skin, while the bees made love around us. A place of peace, to escape to when the tensions of home began to become too great. So many secrets were traded, so many experiences had there, atop that hill beneath the now barren tree. I wonder if a new family will discover that area, give it the same love if not more than Caleb and I did.

My fingers idly trace slow circles in my sheets to my mattress, the constant rough yet soft sensation numbing the tips of my fingers. Eyes ever locked onto the hypnotizing motion, ears to the sound of fibers of fabric and tight laced cloth brushing against the pads of my fingers, the cavernous grooves and mountainous swirls and lines that are my fingerprints, a method of identification. My motion ceases when I hear footsteps trodding toward my door, the handle clicks as it turns and the door opens with a soft crack. The rest of the house is silent as the body pauses, eyeing me, creating heat in my chest and back. The room is no longer cold and heat slowly melds over my skin. They walk towards me, to my bed and their weight sinks down on it as they crawl on top of the comforter.

A minute passes, silence stretches, both of us unmoving in the bed. That is until they stretch their arm over my shoulder and their nails brush above my eyebrow, fingers catching stray inherited blond hairs, brushing them slowly behind my ear. The smell of lavender and oatmeal soap washes over my nose, bringing a sense of comfort to me, a small warmth to my heart. My mother used to do this to me all the time when I was a baby, I remember because her way of touching my forehead just above my brow, gliding a lock of hair between her fingers has yet to change. "Hi, Mom," I say to her, I swear then that I could almost feel her smile,

"Hi Beatrice," She hums, her voice soft, at ease, comfortable. My body turns and she draws back to allow me to look at her, at her experienced blue eyes, at her plump lips, at her high cheek bones, at her soft almost non-existent eyebrows, at her thin nose. Part of me cringes at the thought of my mother growing old. At the beginnings of her crows feet setting permanently on her face, at her laugh lines making her cheeks look swollen. Of the already present lines on her forehead creasing in deeper. A little part of me denies the fact that she is already aging, that she will stay young forever, ever able to toss me in the air and grin at my high pitched giggles. But she's here now, and I intend to spend my time with her wisely, "What are you doing here?" I ask her,

"The boys are making breakfast, and Josh is setting up the table, the only missing family member is you," She tells me, in that motherly way, seeking to encourage me in a blunt but obscured way, the way that mothers do. My mind snaps and fizzles with embers and smoke but a fire of ideas and motivation has yet to be lit, "Do you like it here?" I ask. She's silent for a moment, her eyes flicking back and forth between my own, "Do you?" She asks me back, a hint of worry and concern in her voice,

"I do, but I'm asking you," I tell her, conversations with my mother normally went as such, awkward almost, polite and curt, nearly impersonal but always held a sensation of completeness. "How is Josh treating you? Or Zeke and Uriah, what do you think of them?"

"Josh is treating me just as he always has," She says, "With tenderness and care,"

"That's all?" I ask her, eyebrows raising, Josh looks like such a brute man of few words, "He doesn't say much," I tell her,

"Not yet, not to you," She says back with a smile, a glint of amusement in her eyes, "And I like Ezekiel and Uriah very much, I think they are stunning boys with a bright future. I would be proud to mother them, but I don't think they need that now,"

"Why so?"

"Well, they're all grown, just like you Beatrice," She says, her eyes growing sad and her voice melancholy, "They've grown up all on their own with just their dad. I don't think they need a mother figure, not anymore. Not to teach them what they've already taught themselves just fine. If they do welcome me and you into this home, as a real family, then I might get the privilege and pleasure of hearing them address me as Mom, but that is up to them, I can't force them to accept me, not when I've been absent, when any mother has been absent,"

"Do you want to be a real family?" I ask her quietly, after a while of silence.

"Yes, Beatrice, I do," She tells me softly,

"Do you want to marry Josh?"

"I would like to, but I want you and your brothers to get along, I want you to be comfortable here before I do anything like that," She left out the part about divorcing Andrew, getting rid of him from our lives, disappearing from the earth to restart. Like a light bulb in outer space, like a blackout could be seen on a massive scale, the planet going dark. I nod at her slowly, "Are you hungry?" She asks me,

"A little," I say. She smiles at me and sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and walking for the door, pausing and smiling at me, her hair falling down her back in beautiful golden curls. She tilts her head to the door before straightening up and walking downstairs.

I am no longer cold, no longer upset at my past or sorrowful at the absence of Caleb. Now I just, feel. Feel the breeze from the ceiling fan brush down on me, curling my messy hair and encasing my warm skin, now I feel the patterns and sewn threads of my comforter, of the uncomfortable wrinkles in my bed sheets that press into my skin. Suddenly my mind douses the embers with gasoline and my legs swing over the side of the bed, feet slapping against the hardwood floor, my muscles silently moaning at suddenly being used. Now I'm in the bathroom, using it and getting ready to go downstairs. I've no one to impress, but I'd still like to be presentable. I fix my hair hastily into a bun, wetting my toothbrush and squeezing paste onto it, bringing it to my teeth and shutting the stream of sink water off. The hollow sound of bristles of plastic scraping my teeth bounces off the counter, walls, and mirror.

I spit, done with the white foam around my teeth and lips, turning on the water and smiling into the stream, the thought of fake rabies popping into my brain. I'm not normally one to be morbid, or mildly disturbing, let alone joke about serious diseases; but when you spend hours upon hours beating up a black leather bag until you can't feel your hands and arms, and then get beat up so bad you can't feel the rest of you, the mind tends to finds ways to occupy itself from the same old same old.

Drying my mouth and hands I grin into the mirror and roll my eyes, the fake grin turning into a lopsided smirk that attunes to my lips. My thin upper and spare lower, spanish, Caleb called them. Checking my attire of a tank top and black yoga pants for appropriateness I walk downstairs. The smell of eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and vegetables wafts up the staircase, meeting my senses and turning my stomach into a monster, Uriah is the first to see me touch down into the living room.

His eyes are bright blue, and his smile seems impossibly bright against his darker skin, he's standing by the island dumping fried eggs over a small mound of brown stuff and vegetables on each plate set up, he gestures with his head towards me, as an invitation to the kitchen, to join the family. Josh is sitting on the couch with my mother, they're facing the tv but not really watching it, they're talking, exchanging smiles, glances. Zeke is the second one to see me, and the first to say something, "Oh good, you're up, I was just about to get you,"

"By get you he means terrify the hell out of you," Uriah informs me,

"Oh really?" I say, "And how might you accomplish that?"

"By dragging you downstairs by your sheets," Zeke says to me pointedly, shooting a look at his younger brother, "now make yourself useful and pop in some toast to the toaster," He instructs, in the same manner he does when we train. Straight to the point, which is both good and bad because it urges you on but leaves little room for error. I still have a lot of errors to bypass and correct. Regardless of training my nature calls me, beckons me, nearly pleads at me to help, to comply with his needs. So I do. "Bacon or ham Tris?" Zeke asks me, pulling out more raw bacon strips, "They're both pig," I tell him as a way of saying it doesn't matter, walking behind him to the fridge, pulling out the whipped butter. My mind drifts to the near future, the plans that Josh and my brothers have made, as a tradition, of Four's imminent presence. A sigh leaves my lips as I carefully pull out the toast, I shouldn't think about him, about what happened. Or more so, it shouldn't bother me, not like it does. I can't focus on him now, I need to focus on education, on my new baseball team, on my family. "Tris," Zeke says, my hand flinches and touches the hot metal of the toaster oven for a fraction of a second too long. My skin burns hot and angry and a yelp escapes my lips, ripping my hand from the red metal.

My head whips around and I stare at Zeke, cradling my burnt hand. He places his spatula down, and turns to the freezer, pulling out an ice pack, before turning to me and grabbing my wrist, his actions incredibly fluid. Then he turns on the sink, the water coming out steamy, his grip on my wrist tightens, fingers digging into my skin. I catch Uriah's concerned face and understand that I should stop Zeke before it's too late, but then he pulls my hand under the scalding water, tainting my skin lobster red, a hiss and a wince falls from my lips and I'm shouting at him to let me go, pulling back from him to no avail. Then my eyes through my panic and pain catch him lessening the heat streaming through the tap, and suddenly my burn becomes numb, save for soft miniscule prickles. Then my fingers begin to register the water is ice cold, and he cuts off the stream. Placing the ice over the dark swipe of a burn on the top of my hand. I'm standing there, staring at the ice pack when I notice the plates have all been made, and the table is set.

Zeke again catches my attention, his hand closing around my wrist, softly this time, "You hungry?"

"I could eat," I tell him, my voice a mumble, my brain still working with and against the actions of Zeke, who would burn me to save me the pain of the burn bubbling and blistering later. Strange, now that I think about it, would he do the same with his words? Expose me to the truth, the hard truth that rips off skin and eats at the soul? Or would he let me find out the evil that has been kept from me? Not that there could be anything so significant, not yet at least. I make a note to wrap my hand later and eye Zeke, who is staring down at me with concern in his gaze. Then his hand grips my wrist harder and he drags me into the downstairs bathroom, this isn't the first time he's done so but still the feeling of him pulling me sparks aggression in me. I stand tensed up ignoring the throbbing burn in my hand as he grabs gauze and some disinfectant from the medicine cabinet, taking my hand and holding it tenderly over the sink. He speaks up when the gauze is wrapped halfway around the palm of my hand, "Are you happy we're on break now?"

"More than ever,"

"Why's that?" he asks looking up from my hand,

"Just, school is school," I say with a shrug,

"Have you always had such a problem with it?"

"No," I mumble, letting him get back to wrapping as he moves up to my wrist, "Not since Caleb passed away," in silence he wraps me up carefully, pinning the fabric in place and observing his work, "Flex your fingers," I do so, with the price of sticky salve and gauze sticking to my burn, I hiss. He looks up at me and nods, "Clench your fist," he says, and I try, the skin on the back of my hand stretching and tensing, and I don't think I want to imagine how angry it must look as I do. Zeke turns my hand over and then back again a few times, observing the damage before he's satisfied, "I'm not telling you this so you reconsider, but you really were Four's first kiss," I tense up and start to pull away from him, but his vice grip on my wrist keeps me there, "And yes he was stupid for advancing too fast on you and onto another hand, but I've known Four a long time, long enough for him to open up to me enough for me to become his best friend, and Tris, I know you don't know him, not him, just what he looks like and how he acts," Zeke sighs at me and looks me in the eyes, "He's never had a girlfriend before you, God forbid he lose his cool and act like a guy for once. You know you really aren't the only one who's lost nearly everything, you have more in common with him than you think you do,"

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask him,

"Because Uriah isn't the only one with good hearing and the eavesdropping gene, I heard what happened in your room and saw the expression on Four's face when he left. You really hurt him."

"He really hurt me!" I yell,

"There's a thing called forgiveness," He tells me, looking at me sternly like he's beginning to scold a child, which makes me squirm and rethink my game plan.

"So you want me to just forgive him?" I ask him, my voice lowered.

"No, he has a lot of maturing to do around you-"

"Thank you,"

"-and," Zeke says firmly, "You have a bit more growing up to do. We all took a vote last night when you were sulking in your room, and we even talked to your mother about it, she agreed to bring Four on this trip, she thinks that his presence, even if you're feuding with him, will help absolve problems that have occurred between you two. This trip is your chance to get to know him and grow up a little, and it's his chance to mature and start over with you,"

"So what, you got my mom to chip in and set up this stupid camping trip to get Four and I back together?"

"No, the camping trip is anual, your problem with Four interferes with family ties and more importantly my friendship with him. You and him not standing each other and you being my sister is not going to work, so make it work." Zeke nearly hisses, borderline glaring hard at me, is he only ever serious around me? Then suddenly his eyes soften and he's released my wrist, putting things away before standing he says to me, "Try to get along for a little while at least, he'll be here any minute," I nod to him, because if I did anything else he'd lose what little faith he might have in me and my actions. He opens the bathroom door and lets me out first, allowing me to take in the setup table with one extra plate, and Uriah scarfing down whatever food he might have had on his plate. I smirk a little and find a place, sitting next to him and watching as Zeke sits across from Uriah. Josh and my mother take the head of the table on both ends, so the only spot that Four could sit in, is right across from me. I try not to scowl as a knock echos through the front door.

Zeke looks up at me and narrows his eyes, as if saying "be nice" yeah sure if he's nice to me, he gets up and struts over to the door, swinging it open and grinning saying cheerfully, "Four! Hey man, come on in, we just finished making breakfast," he leaves the door and walks back to his seat at the table, allowing Four to close the door and for his eyes to land on me. I'm the first to break eye contact, because I know that it's not just his eyes on me. I take in the food on my plate as everyone greets him, Uriah is the one to go first, voice muffled as his mouth is filled with food, "Ey Four!" There is a piece of wheat toast with cheddar cheese sliced thinly on it, topped with what looks to be an over easy egg. Josh is next, which is just a lift of the hand and a nod, Four places his things down next to the couch as I eye the hash browns mixed with vegetables. My mother stands from her chair and steps up to him, a big smile on her face like she always does, "Four," She says, "I've heard much about you, I'm Natalie, Tris's mom,"

"Oh, it's a pleasure," He says to her, I can hear the discomfort in his voice as she hugs him, she's a huggy person. I take in the crisp bacon and a few breakfast sausages wrapped in flapjacks, I eye the syrup on the table and reach for it, pouring its contents on my bacon and the tiny pancakes. My mother says a few things that I don't bother to listen in on because my stomach is too loud for me to think, my fork is a beautifully sculpted silver weapon in my hand, ready to slice open the beauty on my plate. When was the last time I had a breakfast meal like this? With my family? I can't remember, if we ever did have breakfast together, it was in silence, not the goofy cheerful tone that Zeke and Uriah make. Breakfast at Andrews house was often times grey, Caleb and I would eat alone, and I don't think I ever saw my mother eat. That house was, a different world compared to this one.

Zeke clears his throat making me look up, my eyes locking with the deep pools of blue that chased me down the school hallway because he wanted to know if I was okay. The ocean abyss that hold darker secrets than what the world or I may be ready for. He still looks handsome, strong jaw, dark hair, perfect lips, crooked and hooked nose. I blink and speak, my voice low, "Four,"

"Tris," He says back, nodding once,

"Fourtris!" Uriah suddenly gasps, I jerk and stare at him wide eyed before I register what he said and slap my forehead, Josh and Four chuckle and my mother smiles fondly. Four is the one to compliment the meal first, "This is good as always, Josh,"

"It was my boys, they'll make fine cooks,"

"Oh really?" Four raises an eyebrow, "Should I be worried about food poisoning?"

"Oh shut up Four," Zeke scoffs, shovelling a bite of hashbrown into his mouth,

"So, Josh," I start, moving my food around on my plate, "Where exactly are we going?"

"I'm glad you asked Tris," He says, smiling and crossing his arms on the table, "We aren't going to Michigan this year,"

"What?" Uriah asks stricken as Zeke drops his fork, Four is the only one who doesn't look shocked, Josh only nods. Starting up again, "We are going south, one of my work buddies mentioned this beautiful camping spot in a recreational park,"

"Where is it?" My mother asks,

"Giant City State Park, about five or so hours from here," Josh states,

"And we're going in the truck?" Zeke asks, "How are the six of us going to fit?"

"Well, I was going to ask Tris is she could sit on someone's lap, or the center console, but I would feel better if she had a seat belt,"

"Someone's lap for five hours?" I restate, my jaw dropping, my mind vaguely aware of Four's eyes on me.

"How much do you weigh Tris?" Uriah asks,

"99 why?"

"You'd crush me," Uriah states bluntly,

"Oh shut up, I'm not that heavy!" I declare,

"Anyway," Josh interrupts, smirking slightly at us, "While you four figure out who sits where, I'd like to let you know there will be a few stops along the way, grab something to eat perhaps. Though I do advise eating as much of this meal as you can, it will be a week before we get a chance to eat a turkey and some real food prepared by my boys,"

"If you'd both like," My mother begins, "Tris and I could help you both cook, and take over the main course while you both handle the sides, let you both relax this year,"

"Actually that sounds like a great idea," Uriah states,

"Not to me, I've done most of the work these past years and have made the turkey just fine, I don't want you both messing it up," Zeke denies, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows, a sigh escapes my lips as I watch what unfolds. My mother doesn't miss a beat, "The turkey needs a woman's touch dear," Zeke freezes as Uriah begins laughing, I stare in disbelief at her, since when did she get so balsy? Josh chuckles and Four looks mildly disturbed down at his food, part of me cringes at his discomfort, and it's the first part of me to cross the finish line to my brain, screaming out to end the conversation, and my lips oblige, "Okay, instead of talking about molesting turkeys with stuffing and it's own juices, let's talk about camping yes?" I instantly regret what I've said when even Zeke is disturbed, Uriah starts laughing so hard he snorts and chortles at his plate, at least Josh has the decency to laugh this time, slapping his hand down once on the table and squeezing his eyes shut. A heavy sigh breezes from my lungs as I pinch the bridge of my nose, "I made it worse, didn't I?" I ask to no one in particular,

"More so than what these two have pulled in the years that I've known them," Four replies, looking like he's struggling very hard not to smile. Am I the only one who thought it was appropriate? Okay, it wasn't, but my intentions were good. Finally Four cracks a smile when I look up at his face, it spreads smoothly along his perfect lips and makes way for a single dimple on his left cheek. A part of me squeals loud and hard enough that I'm sure Christina would be proud, but me, I'm just happy he smiled.

**So, I started typing this up and changed it so many times, my god, I can't even. Anyway, I checked how many words this single chapter was, and its close to double my usual count, I believe. I thought I'd make something light hearted as opposed to what happened in She Knows, because, well the most recent chapter was freakin' sad. I wanted to introduce a stronger relationship and more familiarity with Tris's mother and the ****family over all, I think I've reached my goal to touch down on how everyone is doing and how they feel, a bit difficult because of the fp format. But! Tell me what you think c:**


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